Humanity
by CaribbeanAzure
Summary: <html><head></head>What would happen if Sheriff Vaisey didn't let Guy go after Winchester to save Marian? Season two AU.</html>
1. Lost Opportunities

_Lost Opportunities _

"_Distractions? Like a little humanity?"_

"_Humanity is weakness."_

"_You don't believe that."_

"_You must leave this place…"_

With unease the tall man walked down the hall that led to the dungeon door. His shoulders were stiff and he looked as though he was going to the executioner's block - or coming off it… He had felt this way for three days. Three miserable days. They had been filled with longing, regret, hurt, anger, betrayal, and hate. The inventory of his feelings could continue, but each one made his heart die a little more. Each one took a piece of what little there was left of his soul - down to Hades, down to hell.

He pulled open the heavy door and was instantly greeted with a putrid smell - sweat, dirt, excrement, and fear. Though he was used to it, being forced to endure the stench when he was doing the Sheriff's bidding, there was something different about the smell now. He was going down for a personal matter and had left his duties behind him - the stink was unbearable.

The cold that filled the stone walls could permeate the most close knit wool. It sliced through his jacket, being yet another thing his mind had removed itself from before. The air felt damp, chilled and thick - he had to take small short breaths to keep from being choked. Since it was later in the evening there was not the screams and groans of heinous torture, only the low shallow moans of those that survived.

He sidestepped one of the many puddles oozing from the cells - a yellowish muck occasionally mixed with muted red. His spurs clinked on the cold stone and breaths caught from those who were in the cells - _weren't they done for the day? _The man approached the far back of the dungeon and, ascending the few steps to the last cell, placed his hands on the bars.

An unconscious sneer wrenched itself from his lips as he stared at the occupant of the cell. The involuntary feeling of guiltiness that the man felt made him shift - he was responsible for this man's incarceration just as he was responsible for-.

The observer shook his head - no, A Dale had brought this upon himself. "Allan," his deep voice was raspy and dry from not being used. Guy of Gisborne suddenly realized how little he had spoken in the past three days. A quick 'Yes Milord,' or 'No Milord' was all that he had the will to say.

From his seated position on the damp floor with his knees pulled up to his chest, Allan A Dale's head shot up from where it rested on his crossed arms. His eyes grew bright with recognition and then they went dark - dark with a deep loathing. "Wha' is it?"

Guy closed his eyes and bowed his head, tilting it to the side. "I need your," he choked on the last word, "I need your help."

Allan's bright blue eyes widened and then narrowed, "With what?"

"I need to get Marian back."

* * *

><p>For three days, Guy had been at his worst and lowest. He hadn't been able to sleep at all since Marian's absence. The waking nightmares of her torment drove any slumber far away, as if locking it in a box and imprisoning it on a shelf - with the key around Marian's neck.<p>

The Sheriff had overheard his plan to smuggle Marian out of the castle and away from the clutches of Lord Winchester. Vaisey had put a stop to it before Guy even had time to think. What angered him the most was that he complied without a protest, going himself and collecting _**his**_Marian for that lecherous old man.

Their conversations of that day haunted him. He had never felt so vulnerable as when he was gathering Marian's things and slamming them in her satchel - even going so far as to passionately tell her he had no one. He needed her to be the one thing he had in the world and she would be - even if they were separated even if he never saw her again, Marian had to know that she was all he had. How badly he wished that he had followed through on that plan.

"_I'm Sorry. The Sheriff's instructions." _Those were the last real words he had spoken to her, the last thoughts she had of him were of treachery. His heart cramped as he recalled her calling his name, pleading with him to save her. Once he had escorted her to Lord Winchester's room they shared one final glance - her eyes questioning his. That last look they shared, before he turned away in shame, burnt a hole in his heart. And Guy slowly felt himself seeping out from it and into a state of wretched self-loathing. If only he could have proven Marian right and showing her that he did have some shred of humanity…

* * *

><p>Leaning back against the wall, Allan shook his head, "An' why should I help you?"<p>

"Your not just helping me. You'll be gaining your freedom. I would think that would be worth something to you."

In a moment of defiance Allan remarked, "An' if I say 'no?'"

Guy's lip twitched into a sneer and he sniffed loudly, "Then you'll rot down here."

Adam's apple bobbing with the gulp he took, the imprisoned man hesitated no longer, "A'right, I'll do it." 'Good,' was the only reply he received as he heard the lock click and the door creak open.

Two steps. Two steps was all Allan had to take to be free. But was this freedom? Or was he running back to Guy's thrall? Freedom at a price? Allan pushed those cares aside, once he was out of here finishing his escape could come later. Allan A Dale took those two steps and stood before Guy of Gisborne - waiting for him to make the next move.

Guy turned on his heel in a swift motion and began to take long deliberate strides - he was on a mission tonight. Allan hung back, almost reluctant to put himself fully under Gisborne's control. He took another step - another step into the darkness.

With a determined speed Guy walked but his heart clenched in his chest when he heard the faint whisper that came from one of the cells. Unwillingly, Guy turned and made his way over to the small room enclosed by bars. He refused to meet the eyes of the man occupying the cell. Only half aware of that fact did the graying and sick prisoner, Edward, continue to speak - a shard of hope in his eyes, "Is there nothing you can do?" The words were more of a plea than a question and Guy cringed - knowing full well the implications of what was being said.

Edward of Knighton had taken a fever and Guy couldn't risk telling him his plan, for fear he babbled out in his sickened state. "No," Sir Guy said. The glimmer of hope died, like a drenched fire, and Edward backed up slowly and turned his head away from Guy. Gisborne felt as if a strong box had been laid on his chest - surely he had just pronounced the man's death sentence, the man who would have been his Father-in-law.

Edward needed his daughter, but Guy needed her more. His heart was shattered and his world burnt - if he didn't have Marian there was nothing preventing the monster that was always trying to rear up from within him. Nothing to make him a good man. Helpless - that was the disgruntling feeling that filled his stomach, something that he hadn't felt since his last chance for a true life had gone up in smoke during his childhood. Sighing, Guy turned from Sir Edward and, feeling Allan's presence over his shoulder, continued to the stairs.

The twain quickly entered into the main part of the castle and Guy shut the door behind them. Allan, though, almost ran back down and re-incarcerated himself when Gisborne grabbed him and slammed him into the wall of a dark corridor. Believing that he was about to be abruptly murdered, Allan squirmed and twisted as Guy's hand firmly clamped over his mouth. It was then that Allan heard the twin set of footfalls across the stone floor - guards on their nightly patrol. He relaxed and Guy loosed his hold, clamping his eyes shut in a silent prayer of thanks.

They stayed, concealed in the dark, until the solid steps faded into the distance. Pulling away and taking a glance out in the hall, Gisborne saw that it was empty. "Follow me," his voice was dark and gravely, as though nonuse had chipped away at it. Allan did what he was told, not without making an excessive show of brushing himself off after Guy's aggressive hiding tactics. This was sure to elicit an angry response from the latter, yet there was none. The brooding man had too much weighing him down to bother with petty retorts.

With a great amount of stealth, Guy and Allan snuck out to the stables - the fresh air was a welcome relief to the reek of the dungeon and Allan breathed in deeply. A shaking lad was there waiting for them as was two saddled horses, apparently Guy had been out there earlier. Softly and smoothly Guy removed his curved dagger - the lad shuddered involuntarily. Allan moved a step forward, this was uncalled for! He couldn't murder this - this - child in cold blood. Allan touched the man's shoulder, "Guy, you don't need-" before he could continue he was shaken off.

Guy stooped, his black leather creaking as he did so, it was the only noise in the barn save the child's rapid, shallow breathing. His lips were just above the boy's ear, "Speak of this to no one. Understand?" He passed the blade by the shivering stable-hand's nose and the lad gave a sharp frightened nod. Guy stood, back up to his full and towering height, sliding his dagger into the small sheath on his belt. "Good," he said. "Remember that and I wont have to waste time cleaning my knife up after you."

He clasp the reigns of his black mount tightly and walked out into the moonlit night - the stable lad cowered in a corner. Allan followed Guy's lead and marveled at the multifaceted personality of this man. He could be so tender with Marian and yet, when the occasion arose, he could threaten a child. Though Allan wasn't so sure that Giz would follow through with his intent…

It took hardly a moment and soon both men swung themselves astride their horses. Neither spoke for the entire night, each one too wrapped up in their own thoughts. Allan couldn't believe that he had let himself crawl back to Gisborne. What was he thinking? Unfortunately, Allan didn't know - however he did recognize that what he was doing was for Marian and that maybe, just maybe, this would earn him a good mark with her _wooers_.

They rode hard and fast under Guy's strict command, the horses being worked into a white lather as the night droned. The trees sped by in such a blur that even Allan would have lost his way through the dense forest, if it were not for the road. Guy, the anxious and uneasy lover, was not about to give Lord Winchester anymore time - he had had ample enough. The dark forest road was hard and uneven as the twain galloped - the horses jostling every bone and fiber in their bodies. Not that Sir Guy cared, the pummeling of his body let him know that he was still breathing. The more it hurt him, the better he felt - as if his own pain could take away her's.

Forever winding and twisting, the road meandered about, wearing the horses down as well as the determined riders. The air whipped past them, battering their faces and sending cold chills down their backs. Both men were putting their hearts and souls into this undertaking and both were feeling the strain of their exertions. Though Allan felt them more than his companion - the former having a slightly less vested interest in the event.

The moon was slowly dipping behind the tree line as gleams of light began to surge above - announcing the dawn. They had rode all night, covering quite a bit of ground. Guy knew that they had to overtake Winchester and that was going to prove rather grueling. He didn't care all he cared about was getting her back.

Reluctantly Gisborne stopped to rest, at the urging of Allan and the angry snorts of the horses, just as the red and pink hues of dawn peeked though the sky. He hadn't wanted to sojourn at any available stopping point, but Allan was worried that his incessant pushing would kill the horses - neither man wanted that. Guy was in as much fervor as the steeds, his mind and heart racing but with only one coherent thought - Marian.

Alas, he knew that the Marian he had known and desired was no more, having been taken away by one man's quest for revenge. What Gisborne would find when he got to her, he shuddered to think. A part of him said she would be the shell of the maid he once knew, woeful and frightened - scared of her own shadow, never mind him. Another part yet, told him that she had too much fight in her to cry and mewl in a corner and that, though damaged, she would bloom back to life under his watchful hand. The one thing that Guy knew for sure was that Lord Winchester would meet his end by the edge of the sword.

Another thing weighing his mind down was that he had willfully defied the orders of Sheriff Vaisey - only God knew what awaited him on his return. Though a part of him ached to think that the man he admired and looked up to would harm him, Guy knew that, whatever abuse the Sheriff employed, this was worth it. His only regret was that he hadn't had the gumption to defy the Sheriff sooner. If he had - oh dear God if he had - Marian wouldn't be suffering at the hands of Winchester…

Leaned up against a gnarled tree white with blossoms towering above him, stood Sir Guy of Gisborne - a stark contrast almost as stark as his heart and Marian's. They had been stopped for almost an hour and he was getting restless. One of the blossoms fell and landed on Guy's shoulder, he moved to brush it away but stopped. He picked it up and held it in his hand, his thoughts drifted to Marian and when he looked down again he had crushed the small white flower. He closed his eyes, is this what he would do to Marian? Cage her for her own safety and defeat her more in the process? He didn't know how Marian would respond to anything now, mayhap she would welcome the protection. Or maybe he would do better to let her go… He started to drop the blossom but abruptly caught it - no, he couldn't let Marian go.

Allan approached, leading the two horses who were coming back from a nearby stream. Guy was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn't even hear A Dale return, till the latter said, "Why'd ya want me? Not being funny but you got a whole mess of guards at your disposal Giz. Why do you need me?"

_Why did this man always try to infuriate him? He didn't need to be given an explanation._ Guy growled to himself, "In case you weren't looking, this isn't exactly sanctioned by the Sheriff. It was his idea to let Winchester off without so much as a fight and he gave into his wishes. I will not lose all that I have worked for on his debauched whim!" _All he had worked for? Hadn't he worked all his adult years and most of his youth for position and power? These were the things that only Vaisey could provide. And what was he doing? Throwing them all away to save who? The woman who scorned him? _Guy gave an infuriated sigh at his own thinking, _Dear God yes - he was. That was what he was working for now._

Allan shrank away from Gisborne's outburst - though he didn't let it phase him and set about checking the saddle cinches. That would anger him more than if Allan skirted away. Guy resumed his taciturn manner, trying hard to ignore A Dale and blaming himself, yet again, for the despair that Marian was in. He was replaying every conversation, every touch, every fight they had had in his mind - especially their last…

* * *

><p>Laying on her side, with her knees pulled up to her chest - partially for warmth and partially for consolation, was Marian of Knighton. She scooted away from the large creature that was curled up nearby - making loud revolting noises in its sleep. She felt the straw prick at her arms and legs, but tried to ignore the sting - there was nothing she could do about it. In fact, with her hands still chained together, it was hard to do anything.<p>

There was only one thing running through her mind, _Why hadn't Robin come?_ It pained her to think that he had given up on her and, she prayed, that there was a reason keeping him away. Deep down in her soul, Marian knew that Robin wouldn't just abandon her like that. Guy on the other hand, well he had even gone so far as to deliver her to Winchester. The thought of that man made her sick. No, Marian couldn't openly admit that, it was his actions - the fact that he had betrayed her - that made her stomach turn.

She had risked her life for Guy previously, believing that he had qualities that could be cultivated for good. And this is the thanks she received? She could vaguely account for his callous actions, after she had saved his life, he had almost been drowned after all. His pride had been wounded and he was angry - lashing out at her in his frustration. He had taken great pains later to show her his penance but now, after the Sheriff gave his instructions, he fed her to the wolves.

She brushed the thoughts of both men out of her mind, neither one of them were here - she had to take care of herself and find a way out. Of course thinking on her first and last attempt at escape on the eve of her captivity, she recalled how badly it had ended. Winchester's three guards hadn't let her get far and she was still being punished for her actions… That was why she was enduring the pitiful conditions of the barn as her sleeping quarters - sleeping next to the pig pen. The other option, Winchester's bed, was far less appealing when the two were compared. The thoughts of him almost made her punishment look tempting.

Although at night she was out of the reach of his eyes, hands, and lips, the carriage ride during the day was a different story altogether. He had not yet demanded that she fulfill the duties that only a wife should perform, but he had made himself clear that when they arrived at his manor things would change. The thoughts of his hands roving about, made her clench her teeth. Even if she did escape afterwards, what type of man would want a tarnished woman? Not a single loose kitchen wench or tavern whore ever expected to wed. And if they somehow managed to do so, the match surely wouldn't be anything respectable.

In the meantime, till their arrival, Winchester toyed with her, as much to make her uncomfortable as for his own gratification. Marian was sick of being near him in such close conditions, she loathed the proximity and longed for the time when he would leave her alone in the barn. Every time his lips grazed her face she felt the uncontrollable need to retch. Every bump on the road jostled them together and made her push away. Every time he squeezed her leg or arm she felt the need to lash out boil over.

She gently rubbed her chafed hands as she lay awake on her side, the rough bands having worn red blisters into her flesh. She hadn't been sleeping well, how could she with the trepidation of what her arrival to Winchester's manor would bring. These were the things that nightmares were made of. Marian hated the pain deep in her chest as she thought of the many things that were lost to her from the moment she left Nottingham: she could never help people who were suffering and in need, never see her Father again, and she would never be able to see Guy again. Her heart stopped, she took a deep breath and straightened out her thoughts: never be able to see Robin again

* * *

><p><em>AN This is a new Season two AU and is in no relation to my - um - 'childhood' stories. I still plan on continuing those and the AU to which they belong, but this plot just called to be written. In the next chapter, for those reading and wondering, we will find out what exactly happened to Robin. Please review if you would like - they really do make my day. Thank you for reading!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood BBC and any conversations that you recognize are owned by the BBC - not me._


	2. Let You Down

_Let You Down_

The sun was just barely breaking though the thick layer of tree leaves, signaling a new day. To many people daylight brought a new set of worries, fears, and troubles. Their problems included affording food for their families, their children's hungry tummies, harvesting the fields they worked, and paying their taxes. However, not all faced these problems. A particular group of people, hid quietly away in the deep green wood, was confronted with a different dilemma. Their leader, Robin, was in dire straights and even more danger was closing in...

This was the third day that Marian had been gone - taken by Lord Winchester in order to fulfill the Sheriff's scheme. It was only moments after Marian had been stolen that Robin had raced after her - he wasn't about to let her down. Without thinking on the consequences, he galloped off on his horse - no reinforcements, no plan.

Much was hurt that his Master had not waited for him, even when he had tried so hard to get ready to accompany him. He swallowed his hurt feelings and decided to follow his master, praying that he would eventually catch up with them. He rode out of camp, deciding on a quick pace in hopes of reaching them sooner.

Figuring that Robin would have already rescued his ladylove, Much muttered to himself the entire hour that he rode. He complained that Robin didn't care about him now that he had Marian, that he would be left out in the cold when they were pardoned by King Richard, and that Robin and Marian would sit warm and full by Locksley fire while he stared longingly and lonely through the window on a cold winter's eve.

It was only when Much saw his Master's horse, off grazing by itself, that he began to panic - taking back everything that he had previously said and swearing to the Lord above that he wouldn't speak again if only Robin were alright... Seizing the reigns of the unattended animal, he began a desperate search for his Master.

The hunt took Much over knolls, hills, and tors - then he found him. Lying in a heap, slightly curled inwards, was Robin; Much couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. Leaping off his own mount and running as fast as he could, Much knelt down by his side. There was dried blood on the side of Robin's head and he could feel the stiff knot that was embedded there. Much saw the culprit, a large rock exposed on the tor. He cursed loudly and then, surprised at himself, checked Robin's pulse. Yes, he _was_ still breathing. "Master?" Much gave him a little nudge - no response. "Master?" his voice was just above a whisper and he gently pulled up Robin's eyelid. The eye underneath jerked involuntarily and Much let it snap shut as he jumped backwards. Getting braver, he took hold of the lid again and repeated his question; this action obtained a moan from the wounded man. Much heaved a sigh of relief and tried to rouse his master again.

Much felt a sick feeling in his stomach that he had let his Master and friend down; he wasn't there when he needed him. If only he had been quicker to follow him! Robin would not be wounded, they would have saved Marian, and all would be well!

Once he had both horses near the fallen man, Much took on the difficult job of hoisting Robin up and over the saddle. Though Robin was almost dropped on several occasions, he did not know and was blissfully oblivious to his friend's struggles and of the dubious situation he was in. Much was not happy at all; he truly wished that he had John here to help. However, he didn't, and Robin needed him - our reluctant hero took on the task and dealt with it.

It was several hours later when they finally rode back into camp. Robin was positioned over the saddle of his horse, which Much was slowly leading. He called for Djaq, his voice a deep pant, almost choking on his own fear. She approached, her eyes locked on Robin and then on Much. "What happened?" she said, already starting to examine her patient.

"He fell off his horse," Much wheezed as he dismounted. "Well?"

Djaq looked at him puzzled, "Well what?"

"Will he be alright?" he threw his arms wide into the air, giving a small bounce for emphases. He was concerned, no - that was too mild a word, he was frightened. What would he do if Robin died? Why, he might as well die too.

It also frustrated him that everyone else seemed to be so calm. John lifted him off the horse as if he were a scrap of blanket, Djaq walked to her bunk to get her sparse supplies, and Will took the reigns of the horses and guided them away to be tethered. No one appeared to be as worried as he was. Much could feel his face turn red from anger, he clenched his teeth and clamped his eyes shut - trying to compose himself. It was not usual for him to feel like this and he wasn't sure what frightened him more: Robin's condition or his own fury.

Couldn't being thrown from a horse mean death? _Yes_, Much answered his own question. Why, there had been a man in the Holy Land that had been thrown and - and… Much couldn't continue; he tried not to think about it. Master Robin would not die! He couldn't, he just couldn't…

Robin was laid upon his cot, and Djaq knelt down to begin whatever treatment he might need. Much dropped beside her, "How is he?"

"I need to look at his head."

"I already looked at it. It's bad," Much said as if his explanation could save her steps and time. Eyeing the wound anxiously, he recalled that it looked far worse earlier.

"Let me look at it first," Djaq said on a sigh, gently swooping Robin's hair over to the side. She was then confronted with a large contusion, caked with dried blood and dirt. At the sight, Much stood and began to walk back and forth - he was pacing. Were it not for the situation at hand, Djaq would have found his fidgety behavior amusing. She did feel sorry for the worried man, for she knew something he didn't, though there might be a lot of blood, head wounds always bled more; though this one looked worse than any normal head injury.

"Much," Djaq said, looking up from the wound. He ran back to her, heart in his throat. "Go and get me some water and a piece of cloth."

Without another word, Much had grabbed up a bowl, then ran to fetch the water, leaving Djaq in relative peace. In a brief amount of time, he had returned and handed Djaq his findings. She dipped the cloth into the cool liquid, quickly wringing it out. Pushing Robin's hair away again, she began to rub against the blood that was encrusted on his head. Slowly it came off, showing up on the material, rather than on his scalp. Once the majority of crimson was removed, Djaq could see that the wound was as bad as Much had tried to tell her. The head appeared to be cracked and the skin had been pushed to the side, leaving only meaty flesh exposed.

"There," she said, giving a forced smile at Much. "That doesn't look so bad." She hated to lie, especially to him, but if he knew the truth - only Allah knew what he would do.

Cocking his head slightly, Much eyed his master, "Then why doesn't he wake up?"

"He took a hard fall; he might not wake for a while."

"He groaned before," he said trying to find a bit of hope to cling to.

"That is a good sign," she placed a hand on Much's shoulder. "He is going to be fine. He just needs to rest." Her conscious told her that it was for the best, yet it ached so, to see him believe her fallacious words.

Standing, Djaq left Much and approached John, surely he would know what to do. Robin's wish would be that they find Marian; of course, that wish could very well be his last… "John," she said, her hands fidgeting, her actions made her worry that Much would take note and see something was wrong. "I need to speak with you."

John stepped over to the side, to the shadows of Sherwood - where only the trees and ground could hear them. John knew, full well, that they were good at keeping secrets, "What's this about?" His eyes questioned hers and he could see the fear in them.

Taking a deep breath, Djaq said, "Robin's wound - it - it is bad. I fear he could die." She quickly raised a hand, stopping anything that John could say - be it an outburst or a foul word. "Don't let Much hear. I don't think he could live knowing it."

John nodded, slowly and continuously, as if trying to wrap his mind around the abrupt, new thought. "What of Marian?"

Djaq could see that he wasn't looking directly at her, as if he were talking to the trees - asking the tall silent beings for advice. Allah knew that would be far more help than she was.

"You are who Robin would place over us," her voice cracked, on the word Robin. She shook it off; he was no different from the others she had lost. She needed to keep in control and keep her feelings quelled. "The choice is yours."

Steadily, John gazed into the distance. Djaq could see that he was thinking hard - trying to figure out a way around this. John said, looking her directly in the face the first time since she had told him of Robin's condition, "We stay here."

Djaq agreed with a nod of her head, she was not about to question his decision. Her head snapped up when John suddenly spoke again, his tone grave, "We bury him when the time comes. I will not leave him for the wolves."

Djaq tried to say something in response to his statement, but her voice choked on the words. All she could do was watch as John walked back to camp and proceeded to take Will aside. She looked over to Much; he was right where she had left him, by Robin's bed - his deathbed…

Much continued to keep a vigil over Robin, intending to do so for the remainder of the night. His thoughts were scattered as he sat but it was during that time he wondered what Marian would say about Robin's unruly haste. Marian! How could he have forgotten her? Dear God, what she must be going through!

Much jumped up, dragging everyone's attention to himself, "Marian! We need to go and find Marian!"

"We know Much," John said, his tone gruff and short. He sighed, shaking his head and looking at Robin - sadness clouding his expression. "It is too late tonight."

Much's protests went unnoticed by the others as they moved away. They did not want to hear his thoughts - for he echoed their own. Either way it seemed, that another one of their friends would be lost - Marian to a living hell, Robin to the dirt beneath their feet, and Allan to his traitorous execution on the gallows.

Much was angry yet again. How could they just ignore him! Though it wasn't anything out of the ordinary for Much, he couldn't see how they could disregard his words about such a subject. Flopping down loudly by Robin's side, Much said, weariness darkening his words, "I tried, Master. I tried."

* * *

><p>The next day Much believed he was the first to wake, having fallen asleep on the ground near Robin's cot. He couldn't understand the crick in his neck and the ach in his bones, then the recollections of the previous day came rushing back, backhanding him across the face. Much jumped up and tentatively leaned over his Master, gazing at his chest as it rose and fell - shallow as it was.<p>

He didn't know that Djaq had been up most of the night - saying prayer after prayer to the two God's she knew and others that she didn't. The one glimmer of hope she had was that Robin had lived through the night. At least her skills had not let him down yet; though they might very soon.

Feeling relieved that Robin was still doing well, Much began to move about noisily, in hopes of waking the rest. His clattering and stomping did not achieve the desired outcome - John and Djaq were already awake and engaged in a private conversation; Will was oddly absent.

"Where did he run off to," Much said so his companions could hear him, a slight bitter tint to his voice - didn't he care about poor Marian? They needed to find her, get her away from that cretin Winchester, and bring her back to Robin - surely, Marian would nurse him to health.

Djaq gestured to the woods in response to Much's question, "He went to town."

Crouching down, Much only half-heartedly listened to Djaq's explanations of the supplies they were running low on. Large portions of them were herbs. He did not pay that much attention, what did he care about what seasonings they were out of - they could just go without! His only true acquaintance with plants was which ones were edible and which ones weren't - even then he wasn't always sure... He did not know that she was speaking about plants that could heal.

As Djaq rambled, his thoughts rested only with the girl his Master loved. These thoughts were then interrupted by Will, who was racing towards them.

Will Scarlett skidded to a stop before the trio to catch his breath. Resting his hands on his knees he managed to gasp out a warning, "Sheriff - in - Sherwood."

Exchanging brief glances, those seated, stood quickly. John made sure that there was no evidence that anyone had been around, while the others moved into the hidden camp. Shutting the covering of leaves from the inside, John and Much peaked out from inconspicuous openings. Djaq knelt by Robin, making certain that he wouldn't groan out in his sleep, as Much claimed he had done earlier.

It was not until late in the day when they could hear proof of Will's testament. Dogs. Dogs, their handlers, and horseback riders were all encroaching in on the four outlaws. Much, who was beginning to get angry at the fact that nothing was happening, turned silent at the far off sounds. For that is all they were right now - sounds - apparitions in Sherwood, yet the phantoms were becoming more and more real each passing hour. It was obvious to the conscious members of the gang that the forest was being searched systematically - and they were the targets…

Nothing could describe Much's aggravation when the sounds stopped, still without any sign of the Sheriff. He wanted to sneak out, continue with their unplanned plan of finding Marian. Alas, no one else seemed to share in his wishes. Another thing that cut Much to the quick was that Djaq was tending to Robin far more than he was. Nevertheless, every time he attempted to gain control of being caretaker - she always found something or the other for him to do. Much did all that he was asked, with a growing resentment that she was trying to replace him. Usurp him as it were.

* * *

><p>Not a soul slept that night in camp and soon the watchful night turned into a watchful morning - the dogs baying in the dawn. The silence was thick where the outlaws hid, no one dare speak; all they could do was listen. Djaq prayed again, silently and without the knowledge of the others. Her leader lay somewhere between sleep and death; moreover, the Sheriff was getting closer to finding them - hope seemed to be slipping out from beneath her feet.<p>

Howling broke into everyone's thoughts as the first of the dogs and riders appeared in the distance. That sound brought them to where they were now - their leader broken and death looming over them all. Each one would trade their place right now for a peasant's lot. It did not seem possible that there could be a way out of this mess - even the most elaborate plan couldn't save them. The only thing they could do was sit and wait…

Breaths caught as the Sheriff and Gisborne rode forwards, the latter looked tired and his usual sneer had been replaced with a blank stare. Djaq knew the reason for that man's misery was the same reason for Robin's deathbed - Marian. Many men had lost wives in Djaq's land and they all had to continue on, fight, and die themselves to save their people. Sadly, she realized that if Marian was lost to these two men, neither would recover sufficiently to carry on. She was also suddenly aware of how much she felt sorry Gisborne. That notion startled her - this was the man that hunted them down like animals! But the expression, or lack of it, on his face made Djaq's heart go out to him. It was a new thought for her that Sir Guy could feel so deeply about Marian; she shook it from her mind - he was here to kill them - that was that. How could he feel true emotion? But those eyes haunted her and she knew, full well, that they carried more pain and hurt than most men could bear.

A voice piped up from the back of the conglomeration of guards and Black Knights, it spoke to the Sheriff, "My Lord, we have been over the entire forest, they aren't here." There was an edge to the words where tiredness and anger mingled.

Vaisey's head snapped back and yells could be heard, all directed at the opinionated guard. The Sheriff was not about to give up when he had extra qualified hands to help him take down Hood. The remaining Black Knights had good reason to want Robin Hood dead as well - having the same aspirations made them powerful allies.

"Search anyway!" the Sheriff said, looking through the trees for any indication of Hood. His gaze then floated to the direction of Gisborne, whose expression was distant and eyes downcast.

Leaning to the side of his white mount, Sheriff Vaisey swatted the air in front of his master at arms, "What's the matter with you?"

Guy's eyes drew themselves upwards to Vaisey's face. His voice was soft, countenance crestfallen, and head almost down with his hair falling into his bleak eyes, "I don't feel well Milord. A headache."

"Ah," the Sheriff shook his head in a silent reprimand. "You've been complaining of that since your little leper was taken away. I am sick and tired of your whinging and whining - you sound like a woman!" The words were acerbic and Guy jerked backwards to escape them. Paying no heed to the discomfiture he caused, Vaisey said, "Don't women mewl and say they have headaches when they don't want to _submit_ to their husband's desires?"

The Sheriff was suddenly dangerously serene and began to circle Gisborne. He smiled into Guy's gloomy eyes, planning his next move - one that would hurt and rip worse than any mortal's sword. "Do you think that if _Maid_ Marian complained of that fatigue it would help her situation?" Vaisey emphasized Marian's title, putting a snide twist on the now obsolete term.

Guy's eyes, formerly chillingly emotionless, clouded over - not with sorrow, hurt, or loss but with unnerving hate. Unable to repress the feeling, and fearing that he might draw his sword on the Sheriff before thinking, Guy of Gisborne turned his horse about and galloped towards Nottingham. Rage misted over his thinking - or maybe, just maybe, that one emotion had cleared it.

Hidden behind the screen of leaves, Djaq watched as Sheriff Vaisey, still seated on his horse, cocked his head to watch Gisborne ride off through Sherwood. He started to chuckle, a low menacing sound that was more than capable of twisting a dagger in a man's heart or making jest of the unwilling loss of a girl's maidenhead. What kind of man would be able to do that? What kind of man would be able to work for such a monster?

* * *

><p>Guy of Gisborne dismounted and, snarling at the quivering young groom, told him to tend to his horse. He stomped up to the small room in the castle he had claimed as his own. It was meager, a cot, desk, and chair, were the only things that inhabited it when he was absent. The room only warranted living in when the Sheriff kept him late.<p>

Sir Guy dropped to the edge of the paillasse, the straw crunching under his weight. Let the Sheriff hunt for Hood on his own - neither of them mattered anymore. His head drooped to his hands; he cradled it - letting his mind wander to think on Marian. His Marian, the woman he loved.

All day he sat, feeling his grip on reality loosen and a mad fever take control of his body, soul, and mind. Marian was in danger, and he hadn't prevented it. The image of her being violated couldn't force itself from his mind's eye. Over and over and over- he stood quickly, the backs of his legs pushing him off the cot. He had to get that picture away!

Lashing out he grabbed at the chair adorning the small desk. He tossed it to the other side of the room, a powerful force controlling him. A loud _snap_ greeted him, as one of the wooden legs cracked. Guy imagined it to be several people: the Sheriff, Winchester, and whoever else betrayed her. Sadly, he sunk down again, that would have to be him - he had betrayed her. He had let Marian down…

Guy stood again and looked out the lancet in his room, dusk had fallen quite some time ago - he had to hurry. For what, only he was planning and only he could accomplish but his mind was suddenly twisting and turning and his heart was as if on fire. He wrenched open the door and strode down the hall, he had an itinerary and his next stop was the stables. It was not long after that he came back to the castle walls, re-sheathing his dagger and giving his head a toss to clear his mind. Threats were the only thing that people responded to nowadays - he knew that all too well.

Guy needed help for his sudden plan and the only one who could aid him now was Hood's former man, Allan A Dale. He couldn't trust his own troop of men; they were still under the Sheriff's control. Putting a slight hitch on his idea was the fact that, A Dale was incarcerated in the dungeons after failing to kill Hood in the Sheriff's twisted staff contest. Allan was now playing a waiting game but the outcome, a slow execution, was inevitable.

Of course, to have A Dale's help, Guy was going to have to get him out of the dungeon. That aspect of his plan would have to be done without any notice. He waited silently to be sure that he was not followed or seen - a wait that seemed to take an eternity for one now so impatient. Once he was confident in his solitude, Guy of Gisborne opened the door to the dungeons…

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><p><em>AN Sorry for the delay, I have had a very busy few weeks. Never fear, I do not intend to not finish this - I am having far too much fun with it. We will go back to more of Guy, Allan, and Marian in the next chapter (I wish that Guy had a more prominent role in this chapter). This chapter showed what happened to our favorite outlaw and what brought Guy back to reality - kind of a prequel to the first chapter, which starts up where this one left off. Boy I hope that makes sense… Gulp._

_Now of course Robin does have a good excuse for being thrown off his horse - he is not a poor horseman, but that explanation will come later. _

_I know that all the outlaws might have had a hand in saving Marian in the show, but for this story's sake let us just say that Robin took off after her - solo._

_Also, I know that we never see the outlaw's horses unless we are meant to… They always seem to have horses when they -um- need them. So, I figure that the gang probably have them squirreled away in some little corner of Sherwood. Ah well, their care can be another chore for poor Much!_

_Thank you for reading and if you would like, please leave a review - they make me happy. Thanks!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood BBC and the BBC - not me - owns any conversations or characters that you recognize._


	3. Salvation

_Salvation _

Marian woke with a jerk. She instantly flinched away from Winchester, who was sprawled out under the thin blanket beside her. Clutching her arms over her chest, Marian moved from the bed. Slowly, silently, swiftly. The pounding of her heart was all that she could hear as her feet touched the wooden floor of the inn. Searching eyes found her dress, bunched up in a far away corner; having lain there since it was ripped from her that night. Oh, how she desperately wanted it, the little comfort that it would provide for her was a craving deep within her soul. However, she also needed a weapon…

Tiptoeing across the floor Marian knew that there had to be a knife of some sort in the room. No Lord would roam the country completely unprotected. It took but a moment for her to recall that she had, in-fact, seen a weapon last night. Marian gulped as she recalled it was on his belt when he was undressing… Yes, there had been a scabbard with a good-sized knife - perfect for slicing his thick neck... She shuddered when she knew it would be on his side of the bed.

Reaching far, Marian pulled her dress off the floor and held it flush against her; sighing at the little consolation it gave. She spun around to face the bed when she heard a voice: Winchester.

"You don't really believe," he said, sitting up and giving a lazy stretch, "That I would just let you kill me in my sleep? Or do you?" He reached down to the floor, pulled up the scabbard belt, and unsheathed the blade. Winchester stood and approached her while she backed up into the corner. Her face was flushed with hate and humiliation as she locked eyes with her molester.

In an instant, the knife pressed against her skin and Marian felt the cold touch of metal on her neck. Her teeth clenched into a tight grip. Marian glared into his face and said, "You've already ruined my life, why not take it."

A low chuckle crept out of her captor's throat, "No, mi'dear. I intend to keep you for a very very long time."

Marian, using her dress as a shield, backed up further into the corner, only wishing that this hell would end. Winchester continued his advance and lowered his lips down to hers. He grabbed her arms roughly and pulled her towards him and then - and then - then - Guy woke up in a cold sweat. He lurched forward in the small cot; gasping for denied air and letting the cold shivers run down his spine - but not before they pierced his heart.

Dragging a hand down over his creased brow and face, Guy tried to steady his breathing - these plaguing dreams were wreaking havoc on his heart. It was bad enough to _know_ what Marian was going through, but did he have to _see_ it every time he closed his eyes? Dear God, if he had to witness that one more time he would go mad. Composing himself, Guy slowly crawled out of bed.

Once on the floor he was careful to step over Allan curled up on the ground. Guy had not been about to pay for another room and had given him the choice - the floor or the barn. He prayed silently that he hadn't hollered out during his nightmare but by the look of Allan's latent form, he figured all was safe. Of course, Allan had slept though Guy's incessant pacing earlier and if A Dale could do that, he could sleep through a siege…

Dipping his hands into the clay washbasin, Sir Guy splashed water on his face and through his hair, letting the cool wet drip down over his furrowed brow. Moving his shoulder, he used that to mop his face; wiping away worries, sweat, and sorrow. He sniffed, the air clearing his head; trying to get the thoughts of Marian away.

She would never be the same. He did not want to believe it but he knew it to be true - women don't simply get up and brush off violent lustful attacks as if they were a bee sting. No, Marian would be different. Guy's heart clenched in his breast as he thought of Marian's pain. He didn't care, though, whether or not she was damaged - he would take her as his own and care for her, make everything better…

But, that was a task for tomorrow; tonight he had precious little time to rest - not that he truly could. They had only stopped a couple of hours ago and he would soon be shaking Allan awake to continue. Exhausted, Guy began to walk back to his cot - nearly tripping over the forgotten Allan in the process. Guy let out a string of muttered curses as he pushed himself off the wall he had tumbled into while trying to avoid A Dale's sleeping carcass. He flopped back onto the bed, not caring how much noise he made; Allan deserved to be woken after almost stumbling him.

Despite fatigue, weariness, and worry, Guy did not dare close his eyes again for fear that more nightmares would plague him in his tormented dreams. It was only an hour later when Guy, dark circles under his eyes, tried to wake Allan.

Mumbling about another minute in his sleep, Allan suddenly became very alert when he was shoved awake. He opened his bobbing eyes to see Guy loomed over him. Allan jumped up and away from Gisborne, raking his fingers though his tousled hair, as he stood, almost toppling over in his sudden quest to pull on his boots. He looked over at Guy, who was strapping on his scabbard; how in God's name could that man glare so early in the morning - if it was even morning yet…

There was a sneer on Guy's face as he handed Allan a coin and commanded him to fetch some bread and cheese from the ordinary. "And don't run off with it!" he barked at Allan's retreating back. Guy tried to curb his temper; he knew that A Dale wouldn't risk his life over _one_ coin. Nevertheless, he was miserable, and when one person is miserable, they try to make everyone else feel the same way. Staring out the window, Guy glowered, his thoughts resting on the brown haired girl who was at the mercy of a monster. If Marian was to be his salvation he would have to be hers first…

* * *

><p>Sunlight peaking in through the barn's cracked wall, told Marian that early dawn was upon her. Shifting herself, she managed to sit and shook her head to remove stray flecks of straw. She smiled, fully and without inhibition, as she looked down at the chain that bound her hands. Marian of Knighton had a plan.<p>

About that time, Winchester pulled open the barn door and strode inside, his three guards trailing in his wake. "Sleep well?" he towered above her, and gently picked one of her curls off her shoulder. She flinched away.

Glaring despisingly at her captor, Marian said, "What do you think?"

He shook his head, "Tsk tsk, mi'dear. It would be far more agreeable to the both of us if you would accompany me to my room. Just one little word from you and I'll lift your punishment and have you sleeping on a real bed, nice and warm - you'll have a full stomach too." He bent down on one knee; her level. Slowly he moved his face just inches from hers, "Think how much nicer that would be than sleeping with the animals."

"I still would!" she took the closeness of their situation to spit in his face. Marian was half-expecting the back hand that resounded across her cheek - it was worth it though.

Winchester grabbed the chain between her hands, yanking her up by it before her head had the chance to clear. Once she was un-tethered from the post that she had spent her night next to, Marian was led out of the barn. Feeling a great amount of defiance, she dug her heels into the soft horse-trod dirt, "Am I to be kept like a common beast?"

Winchester looked over his shoulder at her, his face just as placid as when she had first seen him, "No mi'dear, you are too pretty for a beast. No, you are a filly who needs to be broken - and I intend to do so."

It was with these words that Marian forcefully pulled her arms back toward her. Winchester turned about and she replied with a mighty upwards kick in his direction. To her surprise, the vile man was quick enough to latch onto her foot. Not to worry, Marian thought, as she gave a jump, thrusting her other foot into the air and to his face. It was then that he twisted her captured ankle roughly, turning her all the way around - falling to the ground because she did not have her other foot to balance her.

Winchester grabbed the back of her neck and lifted her up, "Where, in God's name, did you learn to do that? Kate was spirited but never…" His lips were at her ear and he panted from their struggle, a shudder wracked Marian's body; he was so base. When she didn't respond, Winchester rotated her to face him, and took her chin in his hand "Did your Daddy teach you that? Or did your precious Sir Guy? He was very interested in your wellbeing; maybe he took pains to teach you." Marian still kept silent, her heart almost freezing when he mentioned Guy being concerned about her.

Winchester sighed, continued with his conversation, and said, "I assure you Marian, no matter what you have learned, no matter from whom, you don't have a chance when I decide to '_wrestle_' with you."

Marian turned her head as far away from him as possible, averting her eyes - not in fear or demure, maidenly, worry but so that he couldn't see them smolder and fume - slowly planning his death and her triumph.

Grinning and thinking that he was yet again humiliating her, Winchester shoved her into the carriage and crawled in next to her, pulling her close to him. Marian shivered, feeling her skin crawl at his touch; oh how she wanted to slit his throat…

The commencing carriage ride was long and tortuous, as Marian frantically thought for a way out. Just one moment, that was all she needed and she could escape. A particularly violent bump bounced the carriage and Winchester hollered out the window to the driver. Marian scooted to the seat's edge and clasp the handle, swinging open the door. The carriage was still going at a swift pace but even so, Marian leapt out hitting the ground hard and rolling several times.

She heard her dress rip and tear, collecting even more dirt than it had in the barn. Marian couldn't have cared less. It took her longer than she would have liked to struggle to her feet, but struggle she did and soon was making an unsteady bolt to the surrounding woods. Hearing Winchester's call to stop the carriage, only served to make her run faster and try harder. However, without her hands for balance, her going was still slow.

He didn't even bother to race after her himself, he sent his trio of men. And it did not take long for them to catch up to her. Once she was in custody again, Winchester drolly approached, eyeing her contemplatively. Breathing hard, Marian watched as he took hold of the chain linking her hands together and pulled her back to the waiting carriage. Another failed escape…

* * *

><p>They had left the inn several hours ago and the sun was getting brighter with each passing second, splitting the shadowed leaves into a blur of bright green and yellow. Though to Allan a Dale, it might as well be the twinkling hours before dawn when it is hardest to stay awake, for Allan was exhausted - it was that simple. They had barely gotten to rest at the room, and he hadn't even been in a proper bed. But he dare not complain to Guy; that irritated and irrational man would probably tell him that he should have rested up while in his cell at Nottingham!<p>

Mind, he had not had _that_ much rest in the dungeon - too worried about his fate, his disloyalty, and the repercussions that came with it. Djaq had told him that he was a good man; did she still believe that? Or did she think of him as a traitor like the rest did? Always talking good but never meaning it, a bloated windbag as it was. He shook his head, trying in vain to push out the thoughts of Djaq and Will, not to mention his other friends who he had let down, away. God, he probably didn't even deserve to call them _friends_ anymore. Why taint their names with his?

Allan's eyes drifted to the man riding furiously in front of him. The horses were feeling slightly better after their respite in the stables, and ready to run. Allan wished that he had that much energy. He also wished that he knew a prayer to say to God asking to keep him from falling off the bloody horse! Alack, he did not and feared that he would drowse and find himself on the earth below.

Since he didn't know any prayer like that, Allan was starting to recite the Confiteor over again and again so quietly that only himself, the horse's sharp ears, and hopefully the Almighty could hear. Mayhap that would help them in their quest or, if nothing else, give him peace of mind. Allan laughed bitterly as he recalled obstinately refusing to memorize it while his mum tried to force him. Apparently, some of it had rubbed off and, now, he thanked God that he had at least one thing to say to him. _Mea culpa, mea culpa - through my fault, through my fault._ He gave another low chuckle, if only Robin could hear him and his litany now…

* * *

><p>Guy, himself, did not have the same type of litany that Allan did. The only litany that Guy of Gisborne had was one that seemed to have no beginning or end, one crime after another - many of them done falsely under the name of the law. Why would God even bother to hear his pleas and supplications?<p>

Gisborne's mind was too much of a jumbled mess anyway, to worry about prayers for salvation, deliverance, and forgiveness. His thoughts focused on the fact that he knew, in a short time, he would have to confront Winchester and save Marian. The images that flashed behind his icy eyes were how much he would enjoy killing that man.

Guy had never been one to take true _pleasure_ in killing. He had done what he was told, immediately and without question. It did tend to bring him satisfaction when he received, as a result, what he desired at the time: approval, power, position, reputation. However, later on he would become disgusted by the fact that he would do anything so the Sheriff would pat him on the head.

He had always remembered his mother's disdain for the Holy Wars and how angry she was at his father for going off to fight in them. She had told her son day after day, 'Those who live by the sword, will die by the sword - remember that Guy.' On the eve that the messenger brought news that his father was missing and presumed dead, those warnings had stopped. Guy knew that she blamed herself for her husband's death by quoting those words.

His mind swirled with a distant feeling of regret. It was hard to think upon one that he loved so dearly and look at the man he had become - a killer. His mother would be ashamed of him for having disregarded everything she had taught him; she was so pure, so good. Did he have nothing of her in him? Guy exhaled brutally, if only he could save Marian, _**then**_ his soul might not be doomed to eternal damnation…

* * *

><p>Marian repositioned her elbow so that it would jab Winchester in the ribs if he tried to kiss her again. It worked as she had planned. He gave a muffled gasp and then grabbed her arm at the joint and moved it spirally. With the irons still tight on her wrists, Marian felt a rough jolt of pain wash over her. She refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out though.<p>

"Stubborn as a mule, are we?" his lips were too close her ear again, and she pushed away in disgust. Yanking her back to his side, Winchester leered at her, "You don't get to be my age, little one, by giving up whenever something doesn't go your way. _I_ will have my way. Now, sit here quietly or suffer the consequences." His hand stroked over her brown tangled curls, almost as if he were petting a favored cat. Winchester ceased his ministrations with her tresses and moved his fingers, tracing her face lightly. When he reached her mouth, he let them travel over her lips, barely touching them with a gentleness that repulsed Marian.

With a swift and fluid motion, she had opened her mouth and snapped it shut on his nomadic appendages. An unfettered yelp greeted her and Winchester cursed, taking a moment for him to slap her face - putting all his might into the blow.

The strike sent Marian to her side and she lay still, face down, on the seat; praying that, whatever the consequence of her impromptu attack, it wouldn't be as lasting as what she suddenly feared. She could already feel the new red mark, a twin to the one she received earlier, burn across her cheek. Feeling the neck of her dress grabbed up, herself pulled along with it, Marian knew that Winchester's patience with her was at a breaking point. He was done being lenient, she had pushed him too far…

Despite the bounce of the carriage, Marian felt her world still as Harry of Winchester yanked her flush against the seat. He hovered above her now quivering form - though she tried to still the trembling, "I tried to be tolerant of you. Letting you have your time to get used to the idea - till we arrived at my manor. But now, well now I'm afraid that that's over. I'll beat that bold attitude out of you."

He crushed his lips to hers and Marian felt the bile in her stomach grow, she was going to be sick. There was no way to escape; her arms were bound, her legs found themselves pinned, and her body was weak from lack of food. This was it. Notwithstanding her hope that Robin would come and save her, Marian had known that this would happen, eventually.

She tried to keep her thoughts on the idea of watching him squirm in pain when she dispatched him. One day those wayward thoughts would be a reality and she would go back and take care of her father. Living a quiet existence, away from the disapproving eyes of the world had never been what she had wanted. Well, then she would just have to carry on as if nothing had happened.

The erratic path of his hands broke her thoughts. She clenched her teeth waiting for the world to end. The carriage came to a sudden halt, sending Winchester forwards almost falling over and freeing her somewhat. Still angry at Marian and now at being interrupted, he yelled, "Why are we stopping?" There was no answer, save one yelp and a hard thud. Then, the only sound was muffled footfalls racing across soft dirt.

Seeing the day's epoch come, Marian knew that this was her last chance. Using her knee, she managed to slam it into Winchester's groin. Her captor let out a thunderous groan, gasping for breath, as his eyes grew wide. Marian almost felt the desire to smirk at him while he wallowed in pain, but she kept her face emotionless as she moved to push him away.

It was then that her heart fluttered and her entire countenance went ridged. For, from the outside of the carriage, she heard a demanding angry voice, "Get out! Your men ran away like cowards! And I don't intend to give you the same opportunity." Guy!

* * *

><p><em>AN I'll apologize again for the wait, it just takes me a while to get everything written down and proofread. I will say that things will get even more interesting in chapter four, but I do hope that you like the story thus far. It will take a couple more chapters to get back to our favorite outlaws, but we shall find out what is going on in their neck of the woods soon. _

_This chapter takes place the next night after chapter one. By the end of this chapter, Guy and Allan are just starting their second day._

_Also, incase I wasn't clear enough - the scene at the beginning of the chapter was Guy's nightmare._

_I am aware that, had Marian not been shackled, she would have been more of a threat to Winchester. But I also couldn't have her free herself now could I? Guy has to do that part!_

_Thank you for reading the story and if you would like to, please let me know what you thought. Reviews do make me smile. ;)_

_I would also like to thank all the anonymous reviewers for their kind remarks._

_More Guy, Marian, and Allan in chapter four! And I will say that the next chapter will have a bit more action and less thoughts…_


	4. Cry

_Cry_

Winchester's face contorted into a frightful gaze. He was still mostly astride Marian when the door forcefully _cracked_ open. There stood Guy of Gisborne, all the hate and anger in the world splayed on his face. As Guy's eyes took in the scene before him, he felt the terrible need to retch. That man was violating _his_ Marian!

Gisborne grabbed Winchester by the front of his shirt and pulled him roughly out of the carriage. Harry of Winchester flailed out onto the dirt as Guy bunched up his shirt in his fist. Guy eyes slowly glanced to Marian, who was sitting up quickly and attempting to straighten her gown. He looked at her cheeks, the red handprints prominently showing.

Lips twitching into a sneer, Guy snarled at his captive, "So you enjoy hitting women? Well so do I!" His fist connected with Winchester's face and the man fell onto his backside, giving a loud 'oomph' as he connected with the ground.

Blindly Guy lashed out again, this time with his boot, Winchester tried to crawl to safety. The attack continued and Winchester shivered and shook like a frightened child. Guy drew his sword out of his scabbard and got into position to lunge at the cowering man.

Marian couldn't take anymore, "Guy!" Her voice was high from fear - she couldn't let him kill this swine in cold blood. At least let it be a fair fight… The murderous attitude shown on Guy's countenance was enough to make her forget her own hate.

Her savior looked to her disheveled form in the carriage, he lowered his weapon slightly, the sorrow in his eyes unmistakable. "Marian," he whispered her name and took a step in her direction; let Allan deal with Winchester.

Allan A Dale, couldn't get the words out fast enough, nor could he leap off his horse in time, "Guy, look out!"

Guy of Gisborne had barely a second to think as he watched the knife come at him. It was a small blade, but Guy knew that there would not be any escape from it. He flinched as quick as he could, the lower part of his left shoulder felt the sting and ripping of cold metal - just a smidgen away from his heart.

Marian screamed his name despite herself. He had come all this way and now was going to die at Winchester's hands; she came forward out of the carriage - she needed to get to him. Allan be damned, _she_ was going to help!

Guy winced and hissed in pain as he grabbed the slick blade and yanked it out of his shoulder. He growled, locking eyes with his enemy; Marian and Allan stopped dead in their tracks. Winchester's eyes brew brighter than any street lanterns as he watched in horror as Guy raised his sword again.

The blade plunged swiftly, deftly into Winchester who was now standing. The man's hands instinctively went around the edges of the blade where it had impaled him. His mouth was ajar and he made choked gasping sounds, staring between the sword, Guy's angry sneering face, and Marian.

Winchester fell to his knees when Guy withdrew the blade, giving it a cruel twist as he did so. Gisborne threw his sword over by Allan and stepped toward Marian - who was fixated on Winchester's writhing form. Guy touched her shoulder gently, she responded with a cringe. "Marian," he said, his voice thick and strained. He took her arm and pulled her to his chest slowly pinning her there as he wrapped his arms around her.

Suddenly, almost violently, Marian responded; out of fear, shock, and release. She clung to him, almost trying to become him and she gripped his jacket tightly, her tied hands impeding the full charge she wished to take. The relief that she felt, since she had thought that all was lost and she would be used worse than a piece of meat, was enough to send her over the edge. Marian needed something to hold onto, to make her world stop its downward spiral. Guy obliged, more than willingly - ignoring the stinging jolt in his battered arm.

He smoothed her tangled hair and shushed her gently, kissing the top of her head, not knowing if she even felt it. "Go ahead, cry," he said softly, his breath blowing the loose hairs around her face.

Marian exhaled deeply but said, "No."

Guy pulled her closer to him and gave another feather light kiss to her curls, "It's alright, you can cry now." He assumed that she was holding back her tears from embarrassment or that she was trying to be stronger than what she was. He wanted her let go of her fear and the only way she could do that was to have a good cry.

Marian shook her head, she was not about to blubber like a babe in front of anyone - let alone Guy.

Loosing all semblance of patience and fearing that she was too far traumatized and devastated to know what had happened, Guy demanded rather than encouraged, "I said cry!"

Marian stepped backwards at the sharp command and stared at him with startled bewilderment. Inside, Guy hollered at himself for loosing his calm and quickly reached for her again, drawing his love to him even tighter than before. It was _he_ that felt the degrading need to cry…

Guy's heart pounded in his ears, every fiber of his being felt tight as he held her and tried to absorb her feelings into himself. He uttered broken apologies into her warm tresses, "I'm sorry, Marian. Dear God, I'm sorry." A moan reached him from the slowly stilling form of Winchester laying curled on the ground.

Not without regret did Guy let Marian go. He stalked over to the twitching soon to be corpse; Allan's eyes grew wide when Guy bent down. Gisborne glared into the fallen man's face, "You should be glad that you tried to kill me. If you had just lain there like a cake of dirt I would have taken my time with you - letting you feel the pain. I would make you suffer till you wished the earth would swallow you." Guy sniffed, "Consider this a mercy killing."

He stood leaving the man to rot to the ground; let him become mud for horses to tred upon. He was not about to bury his lifeless corpse. However he did take the key to Marian's chains, out of Winchester's pocket.

Guy came back to Marian, who had suddenly regained her senses - inching away from his embrace. He was determined, however, and pulled her to him again, "It's alright. You're coming with me." He released her and undid the clasps about her wrists, gently rubbing the sore appendages.

Allan felt like an awkward extra leg on a horse. He shifted from foot to foot, eyes trying to keep away from the dying Winchester and the clasping Guy and semi-willing Marian. He stared at the horses and then, giving his hands something to do, started un-tethering the two steeds from the carriage - the other twain having been absconded with. They could sell these two and maybe get _three_ rooms at the inn tonight!

Taking a firmer hand in the matter, Guy, using his good arm, guided Marian in the direction of his horse. Marian let herself be nudged along, imagining Guy like an anxious black colt butting his friend to play. The notion almost made her laugh.

Grimacing, Guy laid both hands on her shoulders when they reached the steeds, "Marian, I will put this to right. You'll have no need to be ashamed, your mine now."

Her eyes flickered up at him, distressed. He gave a halfhearted smile, "Shhh, it's alright. I intend to wed you, make you an honest woman."

Marian shook her head in a firm 'no,' but Guy stilled her, "No one will ever hurt you again - under my protection. We will see the priest tonight." He looked at her fearful face, "Please Marian! No man will ever look at you now!" Allan cringed, that was anything but smart to say.

Marian stilled her hand that was twitching to slap him when she saw his appalled face. "I'm sorry," Guy breathed, "forgive me." She nodded slowly raising her brows, questioning his motives.

Guy sighed, rubbing his hands over her arms, "I'll care for you, if you'll only let me."

Marian glanced away; she didn't want his offer to be as sincere as it was. Her heart ached and she knew that even if she said nothing occurred that not a soul would believe her. Defiled in the eyes of the world, not another suitor would so much as look at her. It was not as if Robin had come to her rescue to whisk her away to marital bliss. Robin… he had not come! Did he think so little of her? Did he not want to touch her after Winchester pawed her? Her blood boiled and she simmered in the juices. It was apparent that Guy cared for her more than he did!

She almost said yes before another thought struck her: she didn't need a husband. Guy would be a constant overbearing, overprotective, overindulgent man. Why would she subject herself to that? But the look of honest want and fear in his bright blue eyes made her reconsider again. Guy loved her so much that he was even willing to look past her supposed violation to marry her. As of right now, she didn't think that Robin would do the same.

Slowly, hardly noticeable, Marian nodded her head - agreeing with herself on her assumptions. Without warning, but not without protest Gut mounted his stallion and pulled her upon it - sloppily as it was with one hand. Marian was aghast to find that he had placed her in front of him, on his thighs nonetheless! She struggled to get down and out of his suddenly tight embrace.

Guy made soft noises to soothe her, "It's alright. Let me hold you." He so badly wanted his arms about her.

Marian squirmed again, but only felt his grip tighten possessively. She ceased her resistance for the time; he was not about to let her down - not even when she had two horses to choose from! Surveying the area, to keep her mind off Guy's proximity, Marian couldn't help but notice the slain bodies of Winchester and the carriage driver, she figured that was the thud she had heard earlier. They were still as stone, even Winchester having finally stopped writhing.

Try as she might, Marian was helpless at distancing herself from Guy. With her head in such a whirl, it did not even register to her that she had well-nigh accepted his informal marriage proposal. She could feel the beating of his heart - quicker than what would be normal. She assumed that it was because of the kill, little did she know it was her doing. His breath tickled her neck and she tried to move out of range.

Guy's response was to wrap his arm tighter about her waist; her wriggling was almost too much for him to bear in a gentlemanly fashion. "Hold on," he said, trying to keep his increasingly impure thoughts upon other matters, "We're ready to go." Marian huffed her disapproval, she didn't need told - it would become obvious soon enough!

Allan looked longingly at the carriage - the very one that Guy was leaving for the beasts to inhabit. He gestured to the rig, "Oi, Giz! Shouldn't we-" His voice found itself cutoff when he met Guy's steely gaze. The latter glared at him for just enough time to make Allan reconsider his scheme and then Guy turned down to look at the irritated Marian adorning his horse. Though Allan was miffed at Guy for not even wanting to take and sell the carriage - he was a bright man. It didn't take him long to figure that it had something to do with keeping Marian away from any unpleasant memories… To tell the truth, Allan thought that she looked just fine - pissed as a mule - but fine.

Guy knew that he should take the carriage - it would be a far more comfortable ride than horseback. However, he had to think about Marian; God knows what was done to her in that coach! Guy was also aware that she wanted to have her own horse right now - why else would she fidget so? His mind thought logically and told him that he should let her have her own mount, but his heart threatened that if he let her down more ill would befall her. That he could not have.

He wished that he could escape the ragged shudder of his breath, but he felt too deeply for her to be able to quiet his breathing. And Guy wished for God's sake that she would stop squirming! His loins felt on fire! Dear Lord, but he needed her to be still.

He pinned her to him, his breath unsteady, maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all, "Be still!" She looked so startled that Guy regretted the command almost instantly. Marian did not need to be scolded right now, she needed cared for. He had to let her know that everything was alright.

Knowing that Marian was forever pulling away whenever Guy tried to kiss her, he didn't figure that now would be any different. Guy did recall that when he had kissed her cheek before, she had let him. Heart and mind warred with each other as he decided if he should chance her wrath. Slowly, Guy craned his neck and placed his lips to her cheek. He did not leave them there long and to Marian it felt more like a brush than an actual kiss. She stiffened as he whispered to her, "It will be alright. I promise."

* * *

><p>The trio rode for several hours; the pace was slow and Guy was determined to stop earlier with Marian than if it were only him and Allan. When they did break at an inn, Marian was relieved - for if she had to be pressed to Guy's overly warm chest any longer, she would go mad. She dismounted as soon as Guy halted the horse, scurrying several feet away to wait for him and Allan.<p>

Guy looked over at her sadly - was she so traumatized that she couldn't even stand to be near a man? His eyes stole a glance to the heavens; it didn't matter, Guy would take whatever she would give him, be it a slap across the face or a kiss on his lips, as long as she let him care for her…

He gripped Allan's arm when the latter was only halfway off his steed, "Go get a Priest."

So much for _three_ rooms, Allan thought. Now he hoped to God that Guy would at least get two! "Know, where I might come across any?" He was letting his cheekiness get the better of him.

"Just find one!" Guy said, his tone snappy.

Allan got a mischievous glint in his eye, trying to lighten Guy's mood, "I'm better wi' Nuns than Priests."

It took only a moment for Guy's eyes to grow wide in complete horror at the insinuations Allan was making. Had he actually seduced women of the cloth? Surely not! They wouldn't fall for his uncouth charms on an unholy whim - would they? Guy tried not to think about it. He was enlisting the help of a man who, in God's eyes, was condemned to hell - an even worse hell than he was destined! That did not bode well for this wedding… "Just go get him," he gave Allan a push - more to punish him for past sins than anything.

Allan started to walk off, an unseen grin plastered upon his face. He cringed slightly as he heard Guy call, rather loudly, "And stay away from any convents!" He caught Marian's raised brows and hard look. Lifting his arms and hands into a wide shrug Allan said, "Giz wants me to fetch som'thin for 'im." Marian decided that she wanted anything but to know.

Guy tilted his head for Marian to follow him and entered the inn. Marin stood icily by and watched Guy order the rooms; had she known that there were only two dispatched she would have killed him. Gently, Guy took Marian's hand and led her up the stairs to a bedchamber.

He opened the door and let her enter, looking over her woefully. His heart felt as though it would burst inside him. He had her back, safe now with him but that didn't quell the throb of having to rescue her from harm. It stung to know that if he had been man enough to stop Winchester from ever leaving in the first place, that she wouldn't be scarred. How would she ever be able to forgive him? Some part of her must though, for she had agreed to his proposal - or the closest thing to one… That one little nod of her head had made his heart swell with such unfettered joy that he hadn't know since the morn of their failed wedding.

Forcing a smile, Marian looked at Guy, who was leaned against the door frame. He was on his side, the one that did not show splotches of red - he ought to care for that... She could tell by the distant expression he held that he was oblivious to his surroundings. "I would like to rest now," she said. It was when he made no move to leave her, that she added, "Alone."

Only _he_ knew that he was trying to be a comforting presence and watch over her. Guy sniffed, shoving his wounded feelings away, "Of course, Marian."

Once Guy had left, Marian clenched her fists. Why did he never fail to make her feel guilty? He was the one that should feel shamefaced - after all, he dropped her in Winchester's lap! That thought made her shudder. She sighed, one day she would understand that man - who was still a lost little boy in so many ways…

* * *

><p>It was not long after, that Allan came back, alone and crestfallen. "Where is he?" Guy said through gritted teeth. Marian had brushed his compassion aside - again - and now Allan returned empty-handed.<p>

Allan shook his head, "Woudn't come. Said, you'd 'ave to set a day."

"Take me there," Guy's hand was on the hilt of his sword, slowly considering his _options_.

Allan eyed Guy's fingers, "I'm not being funny, but couldn't you just say your vows to each other? My Aunt did that, 'course later her husband denied it an' ran off wit' a wench." The glare Guy gave him made Allan add, "I doubt Marian would do that though…"

"This is going to be a pure marriage. Not a halfhearted peasant's excuse to roll in the hay!" Guy's voice suddenly changed from angry to unnervingly calm, "Now, take me to him."

Inwardly, Allan grumbled. He should have been prepared for Guy to respond that way to his suggestion and he supposed that Guy's harsh words were true in some cases. Yet, it still angered him. Robin hardly listened to him and Guy it seemed was following in his footsteps; he couldn't do anything to please anyone! He would have been better off staying in the dungeons awaiting his execution! But that wasn't really the case was it? Allan knew that there was a purpose or something like that for him. If there wasn't then why had he survived all these years? His heart sank as he recalled that the only time he had felt true purpose was when he was with Robin and the gang. By selling information to Guy, Allan had given away his purpose and, by doing that, his life. Now, he was working for the man he had sold his soul to…

* * *

><p>It was not a far walk to the church and Guy swung open the large door and strode in. He disregarded the disturbance that he caused and stared at Allan until he sheepishly came in as well. Guy saw the priest who was apparently rushing to his private rooms. In several long steps, Guy had blocked his path, "I need you to perform a marriage."<p>

The man was rather too large, Guy thought, for someone who was supposed to be pious. He must be feeding off the scraps that the poor give to him for services rendered. The priest was sweating now, nervous at being obstructed and hastily repeated what he had told Allan. The pudgy man felt his mouth go dry when he noticed the dried blood on his tormentor's jacket; he quickly crossed himself in fear.

Guy tilted his head down, "I don't think that you understand. I have set a time, and that is now!"

Gulping, the priest shook his head, "I'll not perform a ceremony under duress."

Guy wanted to place his sword at his oversized neck, but held back, fearing that it would bring bad luck on his impromptu wedding day. Instead, he said, "My name is Guy of Gisborne, master-at-arms for the Sheriff of Nottingham. You will conduct the ceremony." Taking the expression of fear in the priest's eyes as compliance, he told Allan to get Marian. Guy had known they were close enough to Nottinghamshire that people would be acquainted with his name and reputation. It had gotten him what he wanted, no, what he needed, but how far had he stooped, that priests should fear him? Guy couldn't even fathom…

* * *

><p>Marian pulled back when she saw where Allan was leading her, "Why are we here?"<p>

Allan A Dale grimaced, "Giz wants to talk to yah."

"In a Church?"

He rolled his eyes, "Comm'on Marian, you know you said yes."

"I did not!" Marian said, her head telling her to run, run!

"You nodded. That's as good as." He looked at her unbelieving face. How these two could make such a muddle of their lives - let alone his - he would never know. "Alright, I'll give yah a moment to decide. But then you have to go through with this, or give Guy a bloody good reason why not."

Marian tried to come up with a good reason to push Guy away - she couldn't. Her heart was broken from Robin's uncaring, so her mind thought rationally. Accept Guy and turn him into the good man she knows he can be - accept Guy and show him that real devotion is rewarded - accept Guy and get her Father out of the dungeons - accept Guy and spite Robin (she winced, regretting thinking that one) - accept Guy and have a comfortable life. She suddenly wished that she had put the first two last…

She shouldn't be caring about _him _so much; Guy was half the reason that she was in this predicament! But she did care, it was impossible not to. She had used him ill in so many ways that it was hard not to feel a culmination of remorse. Of course he had been cruel to her as well. If she let herself dwell on it, she always knew that manipulations of the heart were the hardest to endure…

Marian was aware, deep down, that Guy loved her; there was never any question about that. But did she love him? She refused to answer, telling herself that she was afraid it would be 'no' when really, she was afraid it would be 'yes.'

This was killing her. How could she marry the man who pushed her limits, who burnt her home to naught, who took delight in other's pain, who loved her? She made a sound like an angered horse when she realized her last thought. Marian turned away from Allan, not wanting to see his amused expression.

Oh, how badly she wanted to cry now! Her world was falling from the largest greenwood tree in Sherwood and Robin wasn't there to catch it. No, she silently scolded herself, that man would not be part of her thoughts from now on. There was only one man that was even _trying_ to care for her. Composing herself, Marian walked into the Church - to face the man she would now call 'husband…'

* * *

><p><em>AN Yippee! Chapter four! The next chapter will go from here. _

_I hope that everyone was in character. My plot calls for Marian to wed Guy but I also know that she would have quite a few quibbles with the whole notion. I hope that I gave her enough reasons to choose him… *Gulp* Also, remember that Marian is still in a little bit of shock - mayhap not thinking as clearly as she normally would… *Gulp*_

_I also hope that the interactions between Guy and Allan, and the Priest were believable. _

_Thank you for reading, and if you would like, please leave a review and let me know what you think and how I did - because reviews make me grin. Thanks!_

_I would also like to thank all the anonymous reviewers. Thank you!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood BBC and the BBC - not me - owns any conversations or characters that you recognize._


	5. Hanging by a Moment

_Hanging by a Moment_

Five. It had been five days since Robin's deadly fall. Five days since Marian was taken by the dastardly Winchester. And now, it came to this. Djaq placed her hands consolingly on Much's slumped shoulders, "It will get better, I promise. It will take awhile but the pain _will_ lessen."

Much felt his nose drip and he hastily wiped the offending object on his sleeve - he would not cry. He would not! "He looks so peaceful. Do you think he's suffering?"

Djaq shook her head in response, "No, only sleeping. In time, you will be able to speak to him again. You only have to wait."

Much gulped down a sob, Robin wouldn't want him to cry. "He always did say that he would be there for us… Do you think he can hear me?" His eyes were questioning hers and Djaq gave a quick nod.

"You can talk to him if you like - I'll leave you alone," and with that she moved away, letting Much be with his friend and master.

Pulling his worn cap off and holding it in his hands, Much knelt at Robin's side, "Do you have any idea the worry you've put me through? Probably not, and if you did you wouldn't care would you?" He sighed loudly, unable to contain the emotions of now knowing that Robin would live - Djaq had just told him so. Much sighed again, putting on a false show of annoyance, "That's just like you Master Robin, always thinking of yourself! If you couldn't hear me, I'd tell you just how selfish you are!" He fidgeted with his cap, "You had just better be glad that we have Djaq here - or else you would have ended up as dead as - as - that fur you're sleeping on. So there." Much gave a decidedly triumphant nod of his head, feeling slightly liberated by his freeness of speech.

He patted Robin on the shoulder, about to move away and let him sleep without further interruption. Robin gave a groan and poor Much thought that it was in response to his touch. "Djaq!" he cried, "Djaq!"

She came without delay, to see what was wrong with her recovering patient, "What's the matter, Much?"

Pointing with wide frightened eyes, Much said, "I think I hurt him."

Djaq watched Robin breath, regular and steady, "No, he is fine. Stop worrying about him so much and worry about supper." When Much did not move from his master's side, Djaq said, "I am sure that Robin would like to be spoon fed some broth today. That is, if we have any…" She smiled at how quickly Much responded to that, bustling over around the stew pot and grabbing flasks to go and fill. She didn't dare remind her comrade, how much Robin detested turnip surprise…

Djaq, as well as the awake members of the gang, were relieved when the Sheriff gave up his hunt the previous day - calling the guards and Black Knights back to the castle. For the brief time that she was able to see the Sheriff, she did notice that Gisborne was absent and the Sheriff was in a fouler mood than usual, barking orders to no end and cursing intermediately. One thought kept creeping into her head - where was Gisborne? Had he finally snapped and abandoned the Sheriff? Sadly, she told herself that would never be the case - he loved power far more than Marian, he would never leave the man who could give him that…

* * *

><p>Guy stood waiting. His back was turned to the large ornate door, sardonically recalling that this is so similar to the last wedding he and Marian almost shared. Would this one end the same way? Guy knew that he should be waiting outside the door, where the wedding would take place - but he was too skeptical to leave the priest alone. He had learned previously, by Marian's quick sharp words, that he was not supposed to greet her as she came in - how could he have been such a fool? He had never been to a marriage ceremony and had not known the stipulations for his attendance.<p>

Guy's hands clenched and unclenched as he waited; he was in agony. Heart pounding, blood rushing, and yet he stood still - waiting an endless wait. He couldn't will Marian to get there any faster, if she was even coming that is. Guy of Gisborne was hanging by a moment, hoping and praying that Marian didn't abandon him and crush the shred of trust that he still had.

It took too long, his wedding was ruined again; his life and hers both shattered by her refusal. Guy turned, getting ready to walk out of the church and leave the fat priest to wallow in his own muck. It was then that she walked in.

Marian's hair was still tangled from lack of care, her gown ripped and dirty, she looked tired - but to Guy of Gisborne she was the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen. He could not force the smile away from his lips, "You came."

Marian looked at him, not knowing if what he said had been more of a question or a statement. If she hadn't been so frustrated, she might have truly noticed his smile "Of course," the statement was matter-of-fact and dry - she didn't see the smile fall.

As they knelt before the church doors, Guy was motionless for most of the ceremony - rolling his shoulder once on accident and hissing in pain, startling the priest who in turn forgot what he was saying. Marian clearly saw the large man's hands shake and shiver. It was only when the priest stammered out, something about the ring that she watched Guy blanch.

Guy gulped, instinctively feeling the outside of his jacket as though he was sure he had it. Marian rolled her eyes, was he putting on a farce for the priest? Blatantly staring at the priest's colorful hands decked out in expensive jewels, Guy said, "It is at home." Marian couldn't tell if he was lying or not, what she did know was that, this wedding would be less than perfect…

The priest quickly moved to shut the Holy Scriptures, "Well, come back when you have one."

"You will perform this ceremony you little tw-" Guy diverted his eyes from Marian's appalled expression, "The ring is unimportant, continue." On a growl, he added, "Now."

Sucking down a mouthful of air, the priest said, "You need a ring."

Guy muttered a curse, the priest crossed himself, and Marian warily wondered why she had decided to go through with this. It was at that moment that Allan came proudly forward, "I have a ring." Thrusting his hand into a pocket in his breeches, Allan pulled out a glittering ring. The stone was bright red, probably jasper, Marian almost laughed when she recalled that the stone symbolized love…

Allan twirled it, almost longingly before he stretched it out in Guy's direction.

Guy stared at it judgmentally, "Where did you get that?"

"Does it really matter?" Allan asked.

"Whose is it?" his tone was slightly demanding now.

Allan looked annoyed that his gift was being questioned, "Well 'e's not really gonna to be needing it now." He raised his eyebrows, trying in vain to give the nervous groom a hint as to whose finger he had pilfered. "Is he?"

"Who!" Guy's exclamation was toned down as much as possible under the circumstances.

Glancing between Marian and the sweaty priest, Allan mouthed, "Winchester."

Guy barely contained his yell and instead only croaked out 'Winchester' in response - he didn't want to upset Marian.

Apparently, Allan had found something else to keep his hands occupied aside from unhitching the dead man's horses. Dear God, Guy thought, how was he supposed to wed Marian with the ring of the man who - who had just raped her?

His thoughts were interrupted by the priest's sudden, 'That will do fine.' His nerves were set on edge by the whine in the man's voice - who said women had the worst whimpers? With unexaggerated furry, Guy snatched the ring from Allan. He paused when he went to place it on her finger, whispering, "I'll get you another one."

She nodded, resigned to finish what she had started and felt a small shiver run down her spine at the warm pressure the ring caused - sealing her fate… Everything is a choice…

Marian's heart stopped when the priest concluded his speech. She looked up at Guy, his face was stiff and ridged but when he caught her glance, he smiled softly. Her heart quickened unexpectedly, clenched, and swelled. Stilling, Marian questioned her feelings - was this the 'stirring' Robin had spoken of? Attempting to appease Guy, Marian smiled back and was greeted by his stooping and taking her lips in his. She hadn't even heard the priest tell him to kiss her…

The kiss was more awkward than she would have expected with a reputation as long as Gisborne's. The thought struck her that maybe the talk of kitchen wenches was less than truthful - maybe he wasn't as experienced as she had believed. Marian doubted that he was as innocent as a newborn lamb, but mayhap castle gossip should not be heeded as readily as it was spoken.

He took too long to pull away, savoring the moment. It was only when he considered that she may not be ready for his advances did he stop. Guy stood back to his full height and went to another subject, "Let's return to the inn, shall we?" He watched her nod and was fascinated by the way she still held her head erect after - no! He would not think on it again! He worried that his thoughts about her misuse would taint his feelings for her - somehow make him love her less. Guy refused to let that happen! His own Father had forgiven his Mother - and her sin was willful! No, he would not dwell on that either, he couldn't.

Gripping her hand in his, Guy turned away from the priest - not bothering to go inside and celebrate, their only attendee being Allan anyway. Slowly they walked back to the inn, and Marian's heart sped up again when she realized that the room Guy had taken her to earlier was not hers, but theirs…

* * *

><p>Guy ordered a small feast at the ordinary below the rooms. Marian was pleased that he made no qualms about letting Allan join them, she was grateful for the extra person to lighten things up a bit - her world could use some of that now.<p>

The roast pork went fast, and though Marian sat with Guy and Allan on into the evening, she felt stifled - as if someone had thrown a bucket of water on her, oppressing her every move. Finally, she rose and made her way up the stairs and to the bedchamber, knowing all too well that this might be the last time that she could truly be alone. She hated the thoughts that she was getting ready for bed, and she firmly shook her head at the notion that she was preparing herself for _him_.

Though she knew that God did not approve of any manner of deceit, Marian said a prayer to Him, with the intent of keeping Guy at bay. She recognized that Guy thought Winchester had had his way with her; Marian gulped as the word 'rape' sprang to her mind. Maybe Guy would leave her be if her violation was distasteful to him - she had seen a friend of her Father's treat his wife with utter disdain after she was attacked by a drunken stable-hand. Marian prayed to God that Guy would feel the same way… She certainly wasn't going to offer any information to displace what he already believed happened - though she doubted he would believe her anyway. This could be a marriage of convention! She avoided the unwelcome thought that Guy would never tolerate an unconsummated marriage…

* * *

><p>Guy watched Marian's - no, his wife's - retreating form and sighed, he wouldn't bother her until she made it clear that his advances would be accepted. He took another drink of ale, washing away the past five days. Allan joined in the revelry, downing his glass for the third time.<p>

Guy raised his brows, wondering what fascinating things he would find out from Allan after a while; a man was always truthful when he was drunk. Guy avoided that state as much as possible, he never felt in control when he was in his cups, and hated the feeling of weakness that stole over him. It had been well over a year since he had _indulged _slightly too much - that ended the night Winchester took Marian. Guy had tried to dull the pain and anger, eventually waking up on the unturned down bed of his room, his head throbbing like it had been cracked open. If he wanted to be truthful, he hadn't woken up alone… Vaisey was above him holding a suddenly empty bucket that had contained water, yelling at the top of his lungs for him to get up because they were going after Hood.

Guy hadn't realized that Allan had still been talking. His eyes snapped to the man across from him and Allan rolled his own, "Did ya 'ear what I said, mate?"

Guy gave a glare; Allan shrugged, and continued his talking. He only halfheartedly listened, and continued his thoughts on Marian, he fingered his mug and took another sip. Guy stopped mid-swallow as Allan's next set of words jumped out at him.

"What did you say?" Guy said, almost standing with his hands gripping the wooden table.

It was not only Allan who stopped and looked at him. But Allan was the only one who spoke next, looking at Guy he said, tone low, "The priest probably thought that you were in such a rush, 'cause you got 'er with child."

Guy sat back, dumbfounded; his head dropped into his hands. Oh God, what if she _was_ with child? Winchester's child… It had happened more than once, one encounter had changed a life - mostly for the worse. Could he raise a child that was not his? One that was conceived when its Mother was being forced? Though Guy wished that he could, he didn't think so. What would be done with it? He could take it to an Abby; leave it there to grow. Paying for its keep would be far different than raising it.

That was what he would do - but he doubted Marian would share his thoughts. She had too large of a heart to give away her babe - even one that wasn't intended. She would fight him tooth and nail to keep that child and he would fight to get rid of it. He would not rear Winchester's bastard!

There would be no uncertainty as to who the father was. That was because Guy was going to let Marian recover before he even did more than kiss her. Guy rested his head on the table - the only way to avoid the situation would be to consummate his marriage with Marian and, if there was a child, claim that it was his and there might be a chance it was. He would not raise Winchester's child, but he would raise a child he could pretend was his. Sighing, Guy decided to give Marian a few days to get composed and mend before he tried anything…

* * *

><p>Allan cocked his head, "You alright, Guy?"<p>

It came out as a growl when Guy said, "Yes." He wasn't about to tell Allan of his new marital difficulty. He suddenly didn't want to watch Allan get foxed, he wanted to go up and hold Marian - his wife. He needed to tell her everything was alright, and that no matter what, he would care for her, even if there was a babe... Guy waited but a moment, before ascending the stairs to join his bride.

He did not enter the cramped room right away; he lingered outside the door, composing his thoughts. The time seemed to drone on, though he yearned to go to her. Guy needed to make certain that he didn't pressure her tonight, but God knows that he wanted to. This was never how he imagined his wedding night to be… His roving dreams had depicted it so many different ways, but that was all he would have to contend with - dreams. Tonight he would only hold her and with that, he would have to be content.

Slowly he creaked the door open, only to hear Marian's startled yelp. Guy slammed the door shut at her cry and her chastising words, "Don't you knock?"

He leaned his head against the door - how could he be so addled? Guy had forgotten that she could very well be dressing; his heart jumped into his throat at the thought. Then his mind registered something else - she did not have anything to change into… Through the closed door, Guy said, "I have a tunic you can wear."

He sighed as she snapped back at him, "What?"

"I said: I have a tunic you can use, unless you want to go without." The strangled sound that she made shouldn't have given him the devilish grin that it did and before he recalled Winchester, he said, "Believe me, either would suit my tastes." He jumped back to the current situation when a loud thud resonated on the other side of the door - most likely her shoe. He cursed himself, he realized he should not be making lewd, suggestive, comments to a girl who had recently been harmed; he would only succeed in pushing her away.

Before more could be said, Guy reopened the door and entered the room. There stood Marian, hands clenched into fists and glaring. Guy walked over to a small satchel that he had placed there earlier, one that had been brought from the castle. He tugged out a long shirt and thrust it into Marian's hands. Turning his back, he listened as Marian quickly changed out of her soiled clothes and into his clean one.

Once she had the tunic over her head, Marian looked down and was ashamed to note that it didn't even reach her knees. She sprung under the bedclothes and felt the overwhelming desire to cover her head and hide. Restraining herself, she looked over at Guy's back as he worked the buttons on his jacket. Marian felt a wave of emotion rush over her as he groaned, sliding the leather to the floor; she remembered his slashed arm.

Horrifyingly Marian found herself fixated as he began to remove his boots and leather breeches, tossing the latter on the ground with his jacket. She gulped, fearing that he would start untying the belt of his braise. Guy did not; he remained in his underclothes and stiffly walked to the cot. His eyes diverted themselves from hers and he looked at the fresh blood oozing from his shoulder, having torn the new scab while he was undressing.

Maybe if he were in too much pain he wouldn't want to exact his husbandly rights. Yet Marian felt a stinging pang of conscience that questioned how she could leave the man, who saved her life, her _husband_ in such suffering? Despite wanting more time to think about her situation, Marian spoke up and said, "Bring me the basin and a cloth."

Guy's icy blue eyes questioned her but he obediently went and fetched the clay dish and a rag, handing it to her. While she wrung out the cloth, Marian felt the blush rise to her cheeks when she knew her next request. "Take off - your shirt," she tried to make her request detached, but her words ended up catching as she spoke.

Guy grinned roguishly despite the throbbing of his arm but when he went to tug the shirt up and over his body, the pain jolted him back to reality. Gently, he managed to pull the garment over his head and sat down at the edge of the paillasse, wincing at the movement.

Marian dabbed at the blood smeared on his arm, watching as he grimaced in pain. She tried not to look at his bare torso, but try as she might her eyes kept finding it and she would flush when she saw Guy was watching her gaze. Her heart melted as he looked at her with a sorrowful expression. Guy stretched his hand out and brushed her cheek; Marian gasp in surprise, not at the fact that it was displeasing but that she wanted him to do it again.

Guy rested his right hand on her upper arm, "I'm sorry Marian. I'm so sorry."

Marian stopped her ministrations, "For what?"

"For not coming sooner. For not protecting you. For hurting y-"

Marian's head fluttered, Guy of Gisborne could not say these things - not to her! "It does not matter!" She turned her attention back to his shoulder, "I have nothing to wrap it; you will have to go without."

She felt him grow tense under her fingers. "Of course, Marian," he said, he looked anywhere but at her - lost in his miserable thoughts. Scolding herself silently, Marian continued to clean the wound. How could she be so foolish as to hurt his pride as well as his heart? _Why_ should she care? Nevertheless, she did and she felt regret at having lashed out.

Once she was finished with her tending, Marian took his hand in hers, "I'm done. I - I hope that it doesn't hurt any worse."

Taking the bowl from her hands, he gave a weak smile and set it on the floor. Guy lay down on the thin mattress and motioned for Marian to join him. Hesitantly Marian settled down on her side beside him - fully prepared from him to take her, though she was bothered by the fact that the thought didn't repulse her as it should. She stiffened when she felt his arm encircle her waist and he rested his chin on her shoulder, "Go to sleep, Marian."

His words tickled her ear and Marian shivered. She let go of a breath that she hadn't realize that she was holding - so he was not going to demand the right to consummate their marriage. Oddly enough, Marian felt a sense of gratitude to him and a feeling, which most would describe as love, grew in her.

As Guy held her, he felt a completion that he never had before. He finally had what he wanted - Marian. And, in time, she would get better and learn to love him as much as he did her. He felt her breathing start to even out and Guy pulled her closer, but stopped as he felt a ragged lump beneath the thin undershirt - a scar. His brow furrowed, when was she hurt? He could not ever recall a time when she had been injured - hardly a time when she had been sickening in all the years he had known her. Surly there would have been some mention of it - talk about the castle that Edward's daughter was wounded. No one would try to hide an injury like that. Unless they had to…

Guy skimmed his fingers over the raised flesh once more, and heard Marian sigh in her half-asleep state. Though part of his resolve waned at her muffled sound of pleasure, Guy was suddenly determined and angry - he knew of one other person wounded there… Moreover, he himself had done it. He pulled his hand away, as though burnt by the scar when the memories and coincidences flooded his head, "Marian, when did you get stabbed?"

It wasn't so much his deadly low tone but the words that awakened her. Marian shot upwards and out of his reach. Her eyes were wild, but her tone was calm - trying to hide something, "What do you mean, Guy?"

He could see the fear, "Where did you get that scar?" His tone was on a steady rise, as he glared at her fiercely.

Marian stuttered for a believable falsehood to feed him, and said "When I was younger I-"

"Don't lie to me!" he was not about to wait for her ridiculous explanation. "I stabbed the Night Watchman in that very spot!" Guy lowered his voice to an almost seductive tone, "Now, tell me the truth - where did you get that scar?"

Her expression was all the confirmation that Guy needed. "You stupid girl, working with Hood this whole time - outlaw filth. All the times I tried to protect you and here you are, more than capable of saving yourself. Maybe I should have let you stay with Winchester - you probably had everything planned out already - didn't you?"

Marian looked at Guy, hate coursing over her face, "You should have, I am no better treated in your care than his. _**I **_can take care of myself and, unlike you, I don't have to beg for my supper!"

Without thinking, he had his hand raised to strike, but when he saw Marian flinch away, he stopped abruptly. He would have smiled to see the old Marian - his Marian - snapping back at him, were it not for the topic of the fight. Lowering his hand but still with a growl to his voice, Guy said, "For God's sake, whatever possessed you?"

"I wanted to help," her words were spoken firmly - she was not afraid of him.

"I could have you hung!" but Guy knew too well that she was his wife - tied, bound to him; the sheriff would hold him just as culpable as her now. As well, he could no sooner lead her to the gallows then cut out his own heart…

"For what? For helping the poor? I have done no crime worth death!"

Guy hung his head, "All this time. What else have you hidden from me?"

_The fact that I am yet a maid…_ Marian composed her thoughts, "Nothing. That is all."

So badly did Guy want to yell at her, shake her, hit her, but he didn't. The only things that kept his raging anger at bay were the facts that she was his wife - and he loved her, he would be shamed later if he harmed her in a fit of wrath, and that he didn't want to damage her anymore - Winchester had done enough. But there was something else… With his curved blade, Guy of Gisborne had almost killed her. That one notion caused his world to blacken for a moment - then, gone was the hate and anger that he felt towards her for her lies and deceptions - he turned it against himself. If Marian were dead his life would end as well - though he would continue to remain in the world of the living. It caused him to shudder and he felt dirty and low that he should dare to come so close to taking her life.

Lips twisted into a sneer, more at himself than her, Guy pushed Marian back down to the bed and replaced his arm about her, "Go to sleep." Dear God but he wanted to forget that he had ever found that scar; leave the dark memories in the shadows were they belonged. He was so angry that he considered going to Allan's room to spend his wedding night there - designating A Dale to the floor yet again after pushing him out of bed. But that was only a passing thought…

"Guy?" Marian breathed into the dark - she did not know what he was about. One moment he was in a fit of rage, the next he was holding her and pretending that he never felt the proof of her hidden identity. She also wanted a closure of the matter - would he use it against her, letting the wound fester and fume in his soul? Or would he drop the subject like a lit coal that burned him?

"I don't wish to discuss it," he said, tightly drawing her to his chest yet again - trying to regain some of the peace that had been lost. As he gripped her waist, Guy of Gisborne was careful to avoid the place on her side, for that was a part of the past that not even the devil himself would want to resurrect.

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><p><em>AN Well there we go! Chapter five is done! YAY! Thank you for reading and if you want to, please leave a review and tell me your thoughts - reviews make my day!_

_I hope that everyone was in character - especially the Night Watchman bit… I know that Guy was going to take her to the gallows in 2/11 but remember in my story: he just got her back, she is his wife now, and he doesn't want to hurt her. _

_Sorry, still not a bunch of outlaws in this chapter. And, another sorry to all the Alan fans out there - he will have a larger role in the next chapter. ;) _

_Oh, and what do you think of Allan's revelation to Guy? That might cause a few problems later on…_

_Did I scare you with Robin at the beginning? Did I? :)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood BBC and any conversations that you recognize are owned by the BBC - not me._


	6. Betrayal's Trace

_Betrayal's Trace_

Guy blinked in the hazy light that filtered through the small room. His arms felt heavy, as if they had drowsed without him and then, as he looked down, he saw Marian - still curled in them. He smiled but suddenly frowned when he recalled the scar. Lifting one arm up he managed to run the hand down his face, his thoughts irritable - _How could she?_

Guy didn't know, but he did know that if he allowed that to come between them - his life would turn to hell. He needed to let it go; Vaisey would never have to hear of it. His heart thudded when he asked himself whether she would continue on her questionable escapades… Surely, after Winchester, Marian would have no desire to risk her life again.

Sighing at the loss of comfort he would soon face, Guy slid his other arm out from beneath her sleeping form. He hissed, how he had managed to wedge his wounded shoulder there, he would never know. Lightly, Guy touched Marian's left hand and slowly slipped Winchester's ring off. He thanked God that it was rather too large for her finger - making it easy to remove. He needed to go and find a silversmith and barter with this ring for a new one… One that did not have so many bad memories attached to it.

He had told the priest the truth - he did have the wedding ring, from their failed nuptials, at home. He just didn't feel like dredging Locksley pond to find it… Though he was still bothered by the previous night, Guy crept out of the bed and began to replace his leathers. Once his breeches were donned, as well as his boots, Guy set about the dreaded task of his shirt and jacket.

The dried blood on his discarded undershirt made the thin material stiff and hard. He rubbed his hands over the discolored spot, attempting to loose up the cloth - it worked to an extent. Yet, when he slid both arms into it and raised it over his head, the pain was horrific. He gritted his teeth to keep from waking his sleeping bride. Guy continued to clench his jaws together while he maneuvered his arms backwards and slipped on his jacket. Still clutching the ring, Guy left the inn and went out into the dawn, hoping against hope that Marian would still be there when he returned…

The wet air of daybreak clung to him in a haze as he patrolled the streets; his face brightened as he saw what he was looking for - it fell when he noticed no one was at the smithy's… Stiffening his shoulders, even though one of them screamed not to, Guy banged on the door - trying to bring the owner in direct haste. No one came, and his pounding increased.

It wasn't too long after, that a middle-aged man with thinning dark hair, a swarthy complexion, and dressed in a long white night shirt, peeked out at him through the door. "We're not open yet," the man said, his voice was nasal as if he needed to wipe his nose.

Guy pushed forcefully on the slightly opened door, sending the man stumbling backwards. As Guy entered the establishment, the silversmith noted the scowl on his face and the deadly looking sword at his hip. He didn't protest the dark clad man's arrival anymore… Glancing around, Gisborne removed the ring from where it lay buried between his fist, "I am looking to trade this ring for one you have. Don't tell me that you have none, I know you do."

The smith had not been about to say anything of the sort when he had seen, in full, the angry man before him. Quickly and without a second thought, the white clothed man unlocked a small wooden box and withdrew a handful of rings. Demurely he approached Guy and held out the jumble for his inspection.

A large ornate ring, clustered with many different stones, drew Guy's eyes instantly. He almost laughed when he noticed the ring that Marian would pick for herself - a plain sliver band, devoid of any precious gems. Picking up his first choice, Guy eyed it; questioning Marian's reaction to the extravagant item. It would show the world that he could provide for his wife, but he knew that _she_ would look down on it in disgust.

She had seemed to like the unadorned necklace he had given her, so long ago - she had even said that she would treasure it. What had he told her? _It's simple silver. You have no need of gold or gaudy jewels. _Had he meant it? Or was he only trying to flatter her?

Slowly, he returned the large ring to the man's outstretched palm, but he could not bring himself the pick up the lesser one. During his hesitation, it was then that Guy noticed a small ring, dotted with several stones of sapphire, emerald, and jasper. The similarity that it bore to his former betrothal ring was in the size and width, the stones being embedded into the silver and not raised like the others. Guy picked that ring up and placed down Winchester's - not bothering to consider that the silversmith was getting the better end of the deal. He gave a quick nod to the jeweler and left, taking fast and deliberate strides, making haste to his next stop.

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><p>Marian snapped open her eyes and shot upwards in the bed. She looked about the small room and it occurred to her that Guy was nowhere in sight. She didn't know if she should be relieved or perturbed by his absence. Getting up, Marian went and splashed some water from the basin onto her face. As her left hand brushed past her cheek, she felt a noted change - the ring was gone. Her first thoughts were that it must have fallen off, but when that proved false, Marian suddenly received a sickening jolt to her stomach - but why it bothered her so much she would never know. Guy and the ring were gone, Guy had taken the ring, Guy had left her… Was he so furious about finding out the secret of the Night Watchman? Apparently, he must be - for he was gone as was the ring symbolizing their marriage. Instinctively, she wanted to run out to the barn and see if the horses were still there but she told herself that it was useless; Guy had abandoned her and now she was alone, far from home, and with no way of transportation. She growled to herself; well, maybe Guy of Gisborne hadn't cared for her quite so much after all!<p>

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><p>Guy strode into the inn and, ignoring the looks that were directed at the dark stain on his jacket, mounted the stairs. Guy hadn't seen Allan down in the ordinary stuffing his face, and figured that he must still be lazing about in bed. He was grateful to Allan for one thing - that he hadn't picked up any type of stringed instrument and attempted to serenade Marian and him in some debauched form of a charivari… Of course, Guy thought, if a man takes it upon himself to do something so stupid like that, he deserves death - puts him out of his misery - as well as us…<p>

Instead of knocking, Guy roughly pushed open A Dale's door - half-expecting to find him three sheets to the wind, romancing (or the equivalent to it) some trollop. Guy was startled to find Allan alone and awake. The latter raised his brows in question at Guy's unannounced entrance; Guy merely sniffed and told him to fetch breakfast for the three of them.

Uncharacteristically, Guy knocked before he opened Marian's door and smiled at her surprised expression. He was pleased to see her still there; the worry of her deserting him seeped from him. He came up to her, pushing all thoughts of the Night Watchman out of his mind, and handed her a small sack - noting her disheveled appearance in the tattered dress she wore.

Impulsively Marian reached for, and took the bag, "What's this?" Her words were dry and unattached, but her eyes were one large unanswered question: Why? Why was he being so gentle? Why had he married her despite Winchester? Why had _she_ wed him? Why hadn't Robin come? Why did she deserve to be in this position in the first place? Was God trying to teach her a lesson? Bring her down a notch from the self-assured manipulator that she was and show her humility? But if it was God's hand in this scheme, why had he placed the devil himself in charge of her wellbeing?

Gesturing to the container that Marian clutched, slightly annoyed by her brusque question, Guy said on a sigh, "You'll have to open it."

Marian wanted so badly to ask if he had gone to annul the marriage, but she bit her tongue. If only she knew that Guy had vowed to forgive her ridiculous escapades as penance for not saving her maidenhood… Inside the satchel were two plain dresses, the material was soft and comforting to the touch - something that Guy had made certain of. Opening her mouth to stutter a 'thank you,' Marian found herself cut off by his next words, "I'll leave while you dress. Allan is preparing for us to break our fast; I'll wait for you outside." Marian watched as he left, unsure what to make of him… Devil or saint, she couldn't decide - maybe he was but a man who had just missed being something remarkable…

When Marian left the room to join Guy, he clasp her hand gently in his. Without thinking, Marian made to pull away but Guy held her firmly and, lifting her hand, slid something onto her finger - a ring. Instantly, as she looked down, she knew that it was beautiful, thanking Guy in her heart that it wasn't overly flashy. She _**was **_still startled by the fact that it was different until Guy whispered to her, his voice so low and sad that she felt her heart would melt, "I told you I would get you a proper ring." Without another word and without giving her time to respond, he guided her down the stairs, to the table, where Allan was waiting.

Allan smiled when Marian sat down across from him but his eyes narrowed when he noticed her left hand, "Wait, I though' that y' didn't 'ave a ring?"

Guy snapped off the end of a slightly malformed dark piece of bread, "I didn't."

Allan looked incredulous, "Then where did this come from?"

Lathering butter on his burnt bread to disguise the color, Guy cringed at the thoughts of the taste, and said, "I traded the other ring for it."

"Y' what? It was worth a lot Giz, don't I even get some the profit?"

"There was no 'profit,'" Guy said in a rumble, forsaking his 'toasting fork mishap,' he leaned across the table, and pulled Allan towards him - trying hard to keep Marian at somewhat of a distance and avoid her disapproving stare. "And besides, you _stole_ the ring, then you _gave_ it to me, hence it was _**my**_ property and I did with it what I pleased. Understand?"

Heaving an empty sigh, Allan strained backwards and away from Guy. Straightening the messed up front of his shirt, Allan wondered if he should have even bothered giving Guy a ring - hadn't he said that he had one back at Locksley? If Guy did in fact posses a ring for Marian, he should have at least paid him for Winchester's… No good deed goes unpunished, Allan thought, and this was the last time he went looking for a thrashing - that was for sure! Annoyed at his loss, Allan muttered throughout breakfast, all the while fingering Winchester's gold chain still lining his pocket…

* * *

><p>Allan saddled the horses, but his temper was in an ire - was he to be used as a bloody servant? How much better was his life now than when he was with Robin? The one thing that he could say was that he had a roof over his head; cringing he recalled that he had cover in the dungeon just the same… Allan tightened the saddle on the last horse, the new white one; he knew that Marian would be relieved by the fact that Guy only had him sell one of the steeds. A smirk plastered itself across Allan's face when the thought struck him that he could loosen Guy's saddle - 'course he figured that the bloke would pack quite a whollup after the amusing antics were over and done…<p>

Guy walked into the stables alone and Allan presumed Marian had been left inside. With her away, Allan decided to liven things up a bit - exacting revenge for his loss as he did so. He nudged Guy, "So, 'ow did things pan out last night?" He waggled his brows to form an innuendo and Guy rolled his eyes, irritated.

"None of your concern," was the flat reply. Not exactly what Allan had been hoping for, being in the mischievous mood that he was - he wanted to get Guy's hackles up.

"Surely there's 'omething you wanna talk 'bout - ya know, man to man."

Guy's eyes drifted to him, slowly observing him out of their corners. His face was grave and Allan was completely unprepared for what happened next. Suddenly Allan A Dale found himself thrust up against the rickety wall, Guy's hand enclosed about his throat.

Teeth clenched and practically spitting in his anger, Guy said, "Did you know Marian was the Night Watchman?"

It took a moment for Allan to recover his senses enough to register the demand, but during that moment, Guy was snarling for him to answer. _Should I tell?_ Allan's thoughts bounced from one point to the other, _Marian said she'd kill me if I betrayed her. But obviously, Guy already knows… _Guy's incessant shaking and choking broke him, "She told me not to tell ya!"

_So, she was consorting with Hood…_That thought made Guy's stomach roll though he had suspected something of the sort but he had to forgive her, it was his apology. Lessening his tight grip and dropping Allan back to the dirt, Guy growled, "And why did you keep this bit of information to yourself?"

Allan gasp at the air he was able to breathe again and said, rubbing his neck, "She can be quite persuasive, Giz. I don't think you know what you've gotten yoursel' into."

"Oh, I know what I'm into - I just don't think that you know what you are." Guy turned, stalking out of the barn. "Speak of this to anyone, and I'll finish tying the noose you started."

Allan slowly stood from where he had been dumped, his breath was sharp and quick, his head racing, and heart pounding. Giz had his hands on him more than any experienced tavern wench ever had - though Allan felt that their's were far less deadly than Guy's - at the least they didn't try to murder him… Dear God, first Robin turns on him and refuses to heed any explanation and now Guy was doing the same! Was he so useless that no one wanted him about? Allan shook his head, that couldn't possibly be - could it? The thought ate at him, scraping away at a half-healed scab and starting to fester it. The thoughts of betrayal jumped back into his mind from the corners where he had endeavored to push them. Was he up to three now? He betrayed the gang, he betrayed Guy by not telling him pertinent information, and now he betrayed Marian for telling her secret? Skin in behalf of skin… Had he sold his soul to the devil to save his own hide? Either way he looked at it, Allan felt that he had stooped lower than he really had. He had to find a way to redeem himself - find his purpose again.

* * *

><p>A sharp twang snapped at Guy as he collected Marian to take her to the stable, his wife. Anger at her, anger at himself, betrayal, and sorrow all mixed in his hot blood. His atonement for letting her be taken and used - for that was all it was, no love was involved in her violation, only lust - was to forgive her lies and secrets.<p>

As he grasp her hand in his, Marian felt the initial reaction to pull away. She contained it, however, and allowed Guy to lead her outside and to the stable - he wasn't doing anything to cause her harm, just being possessive and commanding… Not that the latter were unusual exhibits for him; she was quite accustomed to having to fight Guy for her freedom and intended to do so if he pushed her too far.

* * *

><p>The day slowly turned into dusk and Guy wanted to stop before nightfall covered them. He paid to stay at yet another inn, and Marian eyed it with trepidation. <em>Would he consummate the marriage vows here?<em>

Once fed a slightly better meal than they had at the last ordinary, Guy tilted his head, signaling Marian to follow. She stood from the table that Allan still lounged at, determined and rigid. Allan wasn't blind, "Oi, if you need me. I'm jus' a couple o' rooms over." He said a quick prayer and hoped that she wouldn't take him up on his misplaced offer. All he wanted to do was reassure her, he sure as hell did not want to stop Guy from doing whatever it was that he wanted to do…

Marian was surprised when Guy only made to hold her again that night. He didn't try to seduce her, kiss her, or force his rights on her. She was grateful for his kindness and whispered a soft 'thank you' into the black room.

Guy responded by wrapping his arm tighter about her, "Go to sleep-" He stopped. Guy had wanted to say 'Marian' but that seemed unsuitable and too trivial - but he could not bring himself to speak his next thought aloud. However, he did have his say in his heart and nuzzled her hair on the silent words, "My love."

The same events repeated themselves for the next four days. Marian was getting rather used to having Guy hold her while she slept. Though at times she felt stifled and chained, other occasions he was a comforting presence. Marian was indebted to him for not trying to exact her wifely duty. Her thoughts were still in a muddle about what she in-fact wanted. When he held her at night she imagined what it would be like to fully be his wife but when daylight streamed in, a blush would ride high on her face and she would want as far away from him as possible. The betrayal that she felt for sleeping in the arms of another, when the man who she thought she had loved for many years was so far away, even when that man had failed to save her, confused her.

* * *

><p>It was not long until they reached Nottingham, the gray walls of the castle stood threatening high and Marian couldn't remember the time when she had stopped thinking of the castle as a cheerful place to visit while her Father worked. Her Father! Marian couldn't wait to go and see him and let him know she was alright. As her husband, surely Guy could get him out of the dungeons now! Guy had already dismounted and now she did the same, her heart beat against her chest. Her desire to rush inside and see her Father was crushed when Guy spoke, "Take her to Locksley, Allan. I'll come shortly."<p>

"Right," Allan said, "Com'mon, lets get going."

"No," Marian said, without the slightest hesitation in her voice. She didn't cringe when the two men blatantly stared at her, instead she stared right back, determined and haughty. "I will go in and see my Father."

Shaking his head, Guy said, "That is unwise."

"And why is that?" she demanded. "Just because I married you does not mean that I am stripped of my own rights!"

"I said no such thing! Why is everything a fight with you?" Guy stepped closer to her and towered above her.

Marian refused to be intimidated, "You denied me my right to see my Father. I take that as-"

"Woman! I am trying to save you grief! I left without the Sheriff's permission; he is going to do everything in his power to make our lives hell! Can't you see that?" The last question was spoken softly, a sharp contradiction to his former yelling. "It will be better if you stay out of sight for several days."

Before Marian could say another word, Guy grabbed her around the waist and was hoisting her back upon her white stead. Forced to comply or be toppled off, Marian seized the bridle. Guy swatted the horse's haunch and it galloped a small distance away before Marian had a chance to stop him. "Take her home," Guy said again. Allan turned his mount to follow her and Guy felt a large dread creep inside his torso as he thought of Vaisey's unchecked anger…

* * *

><p>Immediately the gates opened for him and Sir Guy rode inside, avoiding the looks of those who questioned his whereabouts. The unfortunate stable boy, who Guy had first encountered, was the only lad there to take his horse. He quivered and shook from fear as Guy handed him the reigns. "Did you keep your mouth shut?" Guy asked the frightened lad. The boy nodded, visibly shaking under the man's gaze. "Good," Guy said, and walked away, leaving the groom to breathe a sigh of relief.<p>

A chill permeated him, as Guy walked down the long corridors and to the Sheriff's office. The chill wasn't only from the damp castle but from his own dread. "Milord," Guy said as he entered, rather nonchalantly - trying to keep things calm and maybe just maybe, Vaisey wouldn't demand his head on a spike…

The Sheriff sat at his desk but stood as soon as his master-at-arms entered the room, "Gisborne? Where have you been!"

Guy gave a quick bow of his head; he needed to show submission lest he be kicked like an insolent pup, "I bring you news of Winchester's death. Sussex is yours."

The Sheriff approached, "That is not the reason you went, now is it? Don't play me for a fool Gisborne; I know you went after your little leper. Where is she?"

"Home, Milord."

"Home, as in Locksley? Tut, tut, Gisborne, I thought that you would want to make an honest woman out of her before bedding her as well."

"That is already done. We were married five days past."

"Isn't that nice, very nice, and she already broken in for you. No extra exertion on your part. Now, you came to see me for a reason, not just to tell me that you're back from your nuptial week - what do you want for getting me back Sussex?"

Heart thudding, beating rapidly, Guy spoke, his mouth dry, and desperately trying to contain his anger at the insults Vaisey was making at Marian, "Allan A Dale, has been of help to you, Milord, in retrieving Sussex, I ask for his life."

The Sheriff thought, "Hood's man working as your man… I rather like the irony of it. Might even stumble Hood out of hiding from wherever he's gotten too… Granted."

Guy let out the breath he was holding, though why he was concerned with Allan's hide was beyond him. This was going far easier than he had anticipated so he proposed another request, though deep in his mind something told him that he wasn't out of the woods yet, "Marian's father. She needs him, and I feel that Marian has been punished enough without him remaining in the dungeons. I'll keep her in line from now on."

Vaisey rolled his eyes and mouthed, several times, in what could only be described as singsong, 'You feel.' "Let the old geezer spend one more night in his cell, you can collect his shriveled self in the morning." He cocked a brow, "Is that all?"

Guy nodded his head in agreement, he had gotten what he needed, and was not about to argue over one night with the Sheriff when he was in such a listening mood.

"Good," Vaisey said, grabbing up a knife and thrusting it against Guy's neck before he had a chance to run. "If you ever, ever, do something so stupid, deceitful and against my orders again - I will slit your throat." He raked the blade across the sensitive flesh of Guy's neck, drawing a slender trace of blood in its wake. The Sheriff laughed, and the sound of it burned a hole into Guy's soul, "Better yet, I'll make you watch while I slit your leper's pretty little neck and then keep you alive and suffering for as long as I want. Yes, I like that idea better - don't you?"

He pushed Guy away from him, "Be here at dawn! And get out!" Not needing to be told twice, Guy bolted from the room and down the hall, trying in vain to wrench the memory out of his mind. He felt absurd, like a child running from the whipping that his father just dished out. But the blood trickling down his neck was enough to show just how close he came to loosing his life.

* * *

><p>When Guy reached Locksley, the sun was starting to set and he spotted Allan at the stable, hobnobbing with the aged groom - though Guy couldn't rightly say that Allan was higher in society than the other was. Without a word, Guy turned over his black horse and stalked off to the manor house. Swiping at the thin cut, yet again, making certain that there would be no blood to frighten Marian; she didn't need to know of Vaisey's threats. Hearing the sound of steps behind him, Guy was annoyed to discover that Allan was following him. <em>Couldn't he just sleep in the barn?<em> Alas, Guy knew that he would have to order a room prepared for A Dale.

Allan was trying hard to overtake and then keep up with Guy's fast long steps. The pond gleamed in the fading light, bright and beautiful; the sun casting shadows over the clear splashes of liquid.

Allan caught up with Gisborne and stopped him midway around the pond, "You know mate, if you 'ave a ring for Marian 'ere, wouldn't it be right 't give that 'un to me? I mean, ya already got 'er a new 'un. Aint that something in the 'Knight's Code" or wha'not?"

Guy turned to smile at him; Allan didn't catch the overly amiable look. "Why, yes Allan. I think you should have it."

Allan grinned, _that hadn't been as hard as he had expected!_ "Thanks Guy."

Clapping a hand on Allan's shoulder, an act that should have made the latter reconsider and run, Guy continued, "The only problem is that you'll have to go and get it."

"Well how hard can that be?" Allan said, still unawares as to the danger he was in.

"Oh, it won't be. Providing you like to swim," on the last word, Guy gave a mighty shove and sent Allan careening backwards and into the glimmering water.

Allan only had time for his eyes to grow wide and startled, before he connected with the water. The loud splash, sting of his back, and sudden feeling of drowning, delayed any other response than standing up in the weeds and sputtering. He wiped his eyes with his wet sleeve, an ineffective act, and shook the water from his hair as Guy walked off to the manor. He was going to have to watch that man more closely…

"Enjoy your bath," Guy called over his shoulder, the smirk embedded onto his face apparent in his tone. Vaisey had humiliated him, it was only fair that he return the favor. Continuing to the manor, his thoughts were suddenly distracted - he had something that he needed to do. He was just worried how Marian would react to the fact that Guy wanted to claim Winchester's babe, if there was one, as his own…

* * *

><p><em>AN Sorry for the delay! I've been really busy and __**then**__ my Grandmother fell and had to go to the hospital. It has been a busy few weeks! Well, hopefully Vaisey was in character - all nice one moment and then angry the next. I hope that all the others were in character as well. You will need to wait for the next chapter to find out how Marian reacts to Guy's news. _

_Thank you for taking the time to read, and if you would like to, please let me know what you thought and leave a review. ;) _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood BBC and the BBC - not me, owns any conversations that you recognize._


	7. Revelations

_Revelations_

"Much? Much?" a weak voice cracked through the misty morning. The birds had yet to wake, but even though he was still sleeping, Much knew that another 'Robin' was calling for him. It took the drowsing man a moment to fully recognize what was happening but when he did, he sprang upwards from the thin blanket spread out near Robin's cot. He glanced wildly around till his frantic eyes landed on his master, feebly attempting to sit up. Even though the abrasion on his head was healing quite well, Robin hardly stirred and Much hadn't been the only one worried that he would live the rest of his life addled on a cot.

"Robin! You're awake!" Much cried out passionately, even going so far as to forget his customary 'Master.'

Giving a forced laugh, Robin tried harder to get into a sitting position, "Of course I am, Much. Why wouldn't I be?"

Much blinked back at him, incredulous, "You fell. Remember? Over a sennight ago. When -when you went after Marian…" His voice trailed off as he stared into Robin's uncomprehending eyes. Part of him wanted to ramble on and give him the specifics of the whole situation but another part of him didn't have the heart to tell him.

Suddenly Much hoped that Robin didn't even remember a girl named Marian. But that hope was dashed as Robin asked, "Marian… Is she alright? Did we fight? Is that why I 'went after' her?"

Much looked down, intent on a worn spot decorating his right boot. Why him? Why couldn't Robin have asked for Djaq's graceful caring ways or even John's blunt abrupt ones, to break the crushing news to him? He sighed, supposing that these predicaments came with the fact that he was Robin's - what was he exactly? Robin had freed him from servitude, he was not a Lord yet, and would never be an equal… The only thing left was a friend… He had always considered himself that but never was so bold as to toss it out for the world's censure. At this moment he didn't care, Robin was his friend and that was why he had the task of telling him about Marian and the terrible circumstances surrounding her abduction and his injury. Though Much's gaze was fixed and never left his foot, he managed to mumble one word - a name, "Winchester."

Twice Robin blinked back, in a thrice he was struggling up; bare feet hitting the soft dirt as he tore the sheets from his body. His legs protested the fact that they hadn't been used in over a week and crumpled under the unexpected and unaccustomed weight. He started to push himself off the ground where he had landed, "Marian! We have to get her! Winchester, he - he-" The last words were left unsaid for Robin could not bring himself to speak them. They hung in the air like the rest of the world's unspoken regrets. Too many words left unsaid and some for the better.

"You can't get up," Much said, yanking on Robin's arm and trying in vain to drag him back to his bed. His protests went unheeded by Robin, who was forcing his legs to work sooner than they wanted to. He wobbled a bit, biting his tongue to keep the quivers and trembles from overtaking him. He had to find Marian!

Much was greatly relieved when Djaq ran over, having heard the commotion. "Robin, you are in no state to gallop after Marian again. You would do her better, to be of use when you got there - not make her watch you die!"

"What do you care? It's me - I'm the one who's supposed to protect her!" Robin raced a hand through his brown locks, so forcefully and roughly that it appeared he was trying to rub out bad thoughts. Much watched in horror, afraid that Robin would take off and get himself killed - more afraid that John would club him and send him into oblivion again…

Djaq did not seem the least bit troubled by Robin's lashing out. She handed him a mug, clasping it into his shaking hands, "Here, drink this. It will make your head feel clearer."

"Why didn't you go after her? Do you know what he's done to her by now?" Robin gulped at the contents of the wooden vessel, vibrating with rage and unease. Much had never seen him so angry; his only consolation was the fact that he could tell Robin that he tried to get the others to save her.

Djaq gently took a hold of Robin's elbow and tried to lead him back to his forgotten cot. Their leader's response was to jerk forcefully away and if it hadn't been for Much, he would have toppled over on his unsteady legs. Djaq forced a smile, "You were bad off Robin. We thought that you were going to die and couldn't leave you."

Much who had been keeping Robin on his wobbly feet, suddenly let go; surprising Robin and sending him careening backwards in direct path of the forest floor. Quickly regaining his senses Much latched onto him again, preventing him from hitting the ground. "What? You never told me _**that**_!" Much pointed a finger at Djaq, "You said he would be fine!"

"And I was right," her voice was monotone, eyes locked on Much's.

"What do you mean you 'were right'? You didn't know you were right when you were right!" His tirade was distracted when he noticed Robin holding his head and uttering a broken plea for him to stop screaming in his ear. Much went into a series of apologies for harming Robin; it was after this extended speech, with Djaq watching amusedly, that Much realized that he was the only thing supporting Robin's sagging weight. "Now what's wrong with him?"

"I gave him something to put him back to sleep. He shouldn't be moving so fast," she said, gesturing to the pitcher she had filled the mug from.

Much looked shocked as he struggled to keep Robin off the earth, "How did you know to do that?"

Djaq smiled and took a limp arm to help Much, "Intuition."

Much mouthed the unfamiliar word back to himself, "Is that similar to a euphemism?"

Raising her eyebrows, Djaq said, "I'll let you figure that out Much."

* * *

><p>Guy took long and deliberate strides as he entered the manor house; his thoughts were preoccupied as he searched for the best way to tell Marian that they <em><strong>had<strong>_ to consummate the marriage - tonight. He knew that she would be less than pleased and he was also afraid… She had been behaving as if nothing terrible had happened to her and he was frightened that she had been hurt so bad that she had forgotten. Would his heartless order destroy her and bring all those unspeakable memories back? Would _he_ hurt her?

"Marian," Guy said, voice low and deep, he had found her by the stairs, strumming her fingers in anger - he figured it was directed at him.

"Guy," his name sounded cold on her lips, and the chill sent a shiver through him.

Guy approached her, gently taking her hand in his. He was thrilled when she snatched it away - there was his Marian back!

The smirk that played out on his lips angered her even more and she felt the overwhelming desire to slap him, kick him, knock him senseless. She was seething, furious at him for grinning like a predator, for not bringing her Father to her, for not letting her see him, and for saving her when someone else should have been the one! Marian did not want to be here, among Robin's old servants - people that she was familiar with and had known for many years. She liked it better when they were stationed at inns where not a soul knew who she was or the humiliating situation she had been placed in.

The servants, and all of Nottingham she supposed, had heard what had supposedly befell her and she loathed the pitying glances that she was receiving. She was angry at their sympathetic queries and wished that she had been out in the barn with Allan - at least he didn't pester her so! Marian's mind raced, wondering if this was to happen whenever she encountered anyone? Would they look down on her or treat her with over exaggerated kindness? She clenched her fists at the thoughts, not caring if Guy thought that she was about to strike him. Marian wished that she could, but he had done nothing, save treat her like she was in a gilded cage - pretty to look at but you dare not touch lest she break. She hated feeling like one of the Sheriff's birds. She wanted nothing more than to fly away but that was almost impossible when Guy kept her on a string.

Marian hadn't wanted to take out her anger on Thornton - the aged caretaker was trying to be kind, she even heard him tell the other servants to quit the room. Her husband was a different story… If she lashed out at him, it might serve to keep him at bay. To see him leering at her, as she described it, sent her blood to boil.

Thornton entered the main room again, from where he had gone to harry the cook. "Sir Guy," he said, giving a slight bow of submission, "Lady Marian told me you were returning. I have ordered a meal prepared. It will be served momentarily, my lord."

Guy sniffed, "Good. I wish to retire as soon as possible."

Marian felt her entire body grow rigid but she slowly tried to quell her fear; he would not try anything tonight, he was only tired from the long journey…

* * *

><p>The evening meal went by in silence; Guy brooded over his tankard of mead and Marian studied her plate intently. The silence had grown considerably after one brief spat over Edward - Marian livid that he should be left there for yet another night and Guy declaring that he was not about to push his luck. At that comment, Marian said, rather snappishly, that she didn't see where he had been so badly wounded that he should run in fear from the Sheriff and let her Father suffer. Guy ended the conversation abruptly, slamming his fist on the table. "Eat your food!" he said, muttering, 'ungrateful little wench,' under his breath. He wished he had let her see the long slice mark on his neck!<p>

Marian let him know that she hadn't missed his harsh words, by crashing her own tankard to the table. Guy cringed, recognizing that he should not have insulted her so. "Forgive me. I shouldn't have hurt you." Guy felt sick with a dread that he is going to hurt her far worse later. Words and actions mingling and damaging her to a greater extent than Winchester had already - how much worse it was to have your savior, your protector, harm you - after he had sworn to shield and shelter you…

Marian glared at him tersely, "Fine." Her head spun; had Guy - Sir Guy of Gisborne - apologized to her? That did not behoove him… How was she supposed to hate and loath a man that expressed regret for upsetting her? Even more so, how was she supposed to keep her guard up when he tried to behave tenderly? She did not want to think about it…

* * *

><p>They were alone, save the servants, in Locksley manor. Marian shuddered when she caught Thornton's sad overpowering gaze. Whether he was sad at her supposed violation or the fact the Sir Guy was now gently guiding her up the stairs to his chamber, she didn't know. Feeling Guy's hand at the small of her back, lightly pushing her forwards made her stomach flutter. Surely, this would be as the other nights spent at the inns where he had only held her.<p>

Her husband's downcast and hurt gaze still followed her. It angered her that he should feel so wretched on her behalf - but the longer that she kept her ruse going, the less he would want her. At least that is what she tried to believe…

Guy, had been reassuring himself that she would recover properly if he let her alone - a promise that he was soon to break. Marian didn't show the symptoms of great trauma - though that could be the fact that she didn't want to remember it. He had heard of women forgetting everything after a brutal rape, that thought caused his heart to sink even more. How badly _was_ his Marian damaged? He would know in time, Guy reasoned, but for now a revelation he had several days before needed tending…

The stairs creaked under the wait of the ascending pair, and Marian shivered whenever she felt his hand give her another reminder to continue. They reached the landing, and Guy moved from behind her and opened the door, Marian stood frozen - this room seemed more permanent than the ones before. And she was alone, no Allan in the next room that she could call to, should she need help - to tell the truth Allan had oddly disappeared…

"Milady?" Guy's voice was deep and husky, shattering her thoughts like a dropped piece of clay. At his question, Marian slowly stepped into the room. There was a fire lit but it was dying out quickly. To tell the truth, fires had only been started in the evenings, none of the servants had known exactly when or if their master was to return. Marian's heart leapt - he would have to call one of them to rekindle the flame; then they wouldn't be alone! However, when Guy bent down and began to load the fireplace from a small stack of wood, she lost that last glimmer of hope. What was she so afraid of? What he would do? Or what she would?

Brushing his hands against one another, Guy stood and gazed at the rising flames. He turned to her and slowly came forward, Marian followed his every move. Guy finally came to stand before her and reached for her. Marian flinched away but felt sorrow for the pain that filled his eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you," Guy said, lowering his arms to his sides. Marian started to back away like a nervous animal; her eyes located the door, preparing to escape. The atmosphere in the room had taken a turn and she knew that this would not like the other nights since the wedding.

"Marian! Please, I need you - to listen," Guy came after her quickly and took hold of her shoulders so that she couldn't flee anymore. Though she stiffened and tried halfheartedly to pull away, she was well aware that he didn't grip her too tight.

Guy's eyes were bright with passion and, what looked like, fear. He removed one hand from her shoulder and slowly stroked her face, she shivered. His hand cupped her chin and delicately forced her to look at him, "Marian, I need you to hear me out. I know you're not ready but - but - we must. We _have_ to."

The implications of his words caused Marian's eyes to widen in horror; he was suggesting that they consummate the marriage… "What for?" she said, her words determined and only a breath away from a yell. She had married Guy, when she was most frightened and wounded that Robin hadn't came for her. _Being_ his wife was another matter entirely. She would not let herself fall so easily! She hadn't sorted out her own feelings yet and he was trying to make love to her - when she didn't love him back!

"If you were to," Guy paused, trying to collect his words so they would do the least amount of damage to Marian, "become with child - I don't want to know without a doubt who its father is. I would rather live with the chance that the babe could be mine just as easily."

Marian's breath caught and Guy pulled her closer to him, holding her and gently rocking her. He wanted to fix her broken world, to give her the love that she should have had - not lustful brutality, "I know it's too soon, but if you become with child, I want to think that I begat it. I don't know if I could live knowing that the child was made from your suffering." His words were well chosen and Marian had the distinct feeling that he had rehearsed them on their way to the bedchamber.

Not knowing how to respond to his sudden words, Marian let herself be held by him. She knew quite well that there was no chance of her being with child. But, not wanting to wreck the entire plot she had arranged, Marian stayed silent in a vain attempt to think.

She couldn't let him go on with this! She did not want him! Yet she had married him before God and man - well Allan at least - and now was obligated to perform the duties of wife. The word 'obligation' bit into her heart; she didn't want to be duty-bound to anyone - let alone Guy. Why had she married him? Surely she knew that this would be the outcome of her choice. She almost laughed when she told herself to grow up! Could she grow up and remain with Guy of Gisborne? Could she be satisfied with her life - make the most of it, even if she didn't love him?

As Marian listened to his whispered promises for gentleness and of his affection no matter what, her whole being ached. A small thought flickered through her head, _Would Robin still be as loving as Guy if she had been tarnished? That was why Robin hadn't come, surely - he was ashamed of her._ She didn't have time to finish answering herself, because Guy began to kiss her. First just barley brushing her lips then he deepened the kiss, slowly, softly, subtly.

A part of her screamed to push away, to run, but her blood drummed deeply and only begged to give in. Having kissed Robin more than once, the feeling wasn't new to her but never before had it suddenly incited such passion. It only took another movement of his lips and soon all that was left was this moment here with Guy - her husband. He intensified the kiss even more and Marian felt a pent up longing grip her heart. Her chest felt as if it would burst and she turned her head away quickly, trying to conjure up images of Robin - though she was distressed that he hadn't been her savior. That attempt surprised her, when only a few days ago she had refused to think of him at all.

Her eyes caught Guy's face and she could see the hurt, but also determination; he was not about to give up so easily. Guy's jaw was tight as he took in the predicament he was facing. He didn't want to force Marian into doing something she would hate him for; yet, he would hate himself if he did not forge the child's paternity. He cupped her chin in his hands and turned her to face him, "I love you Marian. Nothing will ever change that."

The words sounded odd coming off his own lips. Had he ever told her that before? He doubted it, it hadn't felt familiar to him; instinct told him that many years had passes since he had spoken those words last. Who was the last person he had told that to? An image of a woman with long black hair sprang to his mind - his mother. No, he didn't want to think about her. Disentangling his mind from the resurrected memories of the dead, Guy dipped his head and resumed the kiss.

Marian's instinct was to recoil, to run from his influence, but her heart had jumped and thudded against her breastbone. The tender motions of his lips felt like fire on her skin; feeling her arms drift up to clasp his shoulders startled her - but the last thing that she wanted was for him to stop. Those half-awake dreams and imaginings began to tug her restraint further away and Marian felt as if she would crumple and die if he didn't hold her. Her own longing dismayed her and she desperately wished she could quell it - though she was starting to recognize that wasn't an option anymore, the moment being too far gone.

Marian knew, deep down, that Guy had done more for her now than Robin ever had or ever would - and, though she told herself that she didn't truly want to, she was going to prove that loyalty must be rewarded. She tried to be rational about why she suddenly desired him so badly, but payment was slowly turning to pleasure and loyalty into lust. Or was that love that she felt - gratitude and respect for him? But how could she love or respect a man that vexed her so? Whose whole life revolved around one thing - the Sheriff's bidding? Little did Marian know that his life did revolve around one thing - her.

Her coherent thoughts were being washed away as he kissed her more passionately and pulled her closer. She gasp when he drew away, breathing intensely. Now was her chance to tell him 'No,' yell that she didn't love him, to bolt from the room and run. However, she didn't - she couldn't…

Marian of Gisborne stood, watching her husband's flushed face, she had not noticed how handsome he looked until now. There was no scowl or sneer to mar his expression. His brows weren't furrowed in anger or agitation. Moreover, he was not trying to impress her; he was being himself - he was being Guy. He looked like he had that long long time ago standing in Locksley by the fire, open to her gaze and scrutiny. Oh, how badly she had wanted to touch him then! Her heart shuddered and stilled when she realized that the memory would come alive soon - and there would be no Robin skulking at the window to censure her…

She reached out to him; her judgment and reason wasn't in complete control anymore. Instinct was dragging her soul away, never to be the same, and she was letting it. Damning tomorrow and the later regret she knew would come, Marian caressed his face; almost feeling him nuzzle into her palm.

Guy moved his hand up and gently took hers, his eyes trying to read what she thought. When Marian looked into his face she saw his pleading look as well as the promise that was hidden there. He would look after her, he would love her, and he would care for her. She only prayed that she could one day feel the same way about him…

Guy took her hand and kissed it, with such gentility that Marian felt her insides coil around themselves, choking the very breath out of her. Suddenly she _knew_ that she could learn to care for him; mold him to her ways and into the good man that was yearning to be free. It would be a challenging task but Marian was always up for a fight, she could _**make**_ him change. There was no more Robin in her life, and this was her last chance to regain some honor and have a husband - one who loved her, even if the mutual feeling was compromised. It didn't matter anymore, that she was betraying Robin with his enemy; without him and their former betrothal draped over her, there was nothing to stop her from having 'stirrings' for Guy. With these feelings pounding in her mind and heart, Marian pushed the thoughts of Robin, this moment, and the consequences of Guy finding out she was lying, out of her mind. Cursing her meticulous plan that lay in shambles at her feet, Marian pulled her hand away from his and placed it on his face again. She let herself go and kissed him back…

* * *

><p><em>AN Sorry for such a short chapter! However, I felt that I should stop it here - fade to black - and resume the next morning at the start of chapter eight. I hope that Marian's thought process wasn't flawed and seemed logical. *Gulp* I do hope that she seemed like herself - she can't go all 'Night Watchman' on him at the moment, but her mind and heart can stubbornly refuse to coincide._

_I hope that Guy wasn't too OOC… He does love Marian and wants to treat her properly. He is trying to be sweet - for once… I promise that he is not going to turn into some coddling sap - he is Guy of Gisborne after all and is entitled to some tantrums. ;)_

_There will be more of the outlaws in the next chapter, when they (that includes a now awake Robin) find out that Gisborne is back from his unscheduled departure and has brought Marian to Locksley. Needless to say, Robin is not going to be happy! _

_Oh, also there will be more of Allan in the next chapter, as well!_

_I would like to give a big thanks to all the anonymous reviewers! _

_Moreover, as always, I appreciate you being interested in my story and reading it. If you would like, please tell me your thoughts. Thank you!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood BBC and the BBC - not me, owns any conversations that you recognize._


	8. Let Bygones Be Bygones

_Let Bygones Be_

Marian woke in the early morning dawn - her back pressed tightly to Guy's bare chest. Her heart fluttered as the recollections of last night flitted back into her mind. Though Marian wasn't completely naive when it came to the married state, she realized that she was less prepared and knowledgeable than what she cared to admit. Certain details left out when she caught snatches of kitchen talk would have been a blessing to know…

Her brow furrowed; Guy hadn't said anything about the fact she was still a maid - she knew that he couldn't have not known. Granted his eyes had grown wide and clouded over with deep emotion, but he had never confronted her. Afterwards, he had pulled her to him and she had remained there ever since. She was acutely aware that she was stiff from the eternalness of his embrace and her body was sore from her husband's attentions - gentle though they were. Biting her lip Marian tried to, again, rationalize her yielding to him. She was bound to him, Guy was her husband and he cared for her, she could turn him into a man that she would like to have about - even grow to care for him. But her heart still gnawed at her in resentment; angry that she should be so fickle and easily swayed from one moment to the next. She knew that this was the most permanent thing that she had ever done… There was no turning back anymore.

Marian knew he had noticed her maidenhood… What did it matter anymore if he had or not? She had already given herself to him - more willingly than she would care to admit. She would never be able to keep him at bay now…

Feeling the need to look at him, Marian craned her head as easily as she could, trying not to disturb him if he still drowsed. When she could see him, she was startled to meet Guy's staring blue eyes.

Guy pulled her closer to him, cuddling her against him. He rested his chin on her shoulder, breathing in the curls that draped about her head. He kissed her upper arm, deliberately as she watched him. He stroked her cheek, staring into her questioning and concerned expression. Guy spoke, his voice was soft but a hurt rasp tinted the words, "Marian, why did you lie to me - again."

She turned away not knowing if she was more ashamed of being a maid or that he found out the falsehood she let him believe. He knew. Guy was not so easily deterred and he felt himself grow angrier with every spoken word, "Why wouldn't you tell me something like this? For God's sake! He hadn't violated you and yet you let me suffer thinking that he had!"

Guy released her and sat up, running a hand down his enraged face, trying in vain to smooth the angry lines creasing his brow, "Were you trying to play me the fool? Let me feel guilty every time I saw you?"

Marian drew to the other side of the bed, jerking the sheet along with her. Guy growled and stood up, busily yanking on his leather breeches, his face was worse than any devil's. He turned back to the bed when he heard Marian say something. His eyes narrowed, "What did you say?"

"I said it would serve you right to be guilt-ridden! You let him take me! It's your fault!"

He laughed mirthlessly, "Of course. Everything's my fault. It's always my fault isn't it, Marian? My parents die and it's my fault. All of Nottingham is starving and that's my fault too. Hood outwits the Sheriff and that's my fault. The Sheriff bloody well sells you to that ordure, Winchester - and it's all my fault!"

Guy stalked to the bed, placing both hands on the side where Marian lay curled - trying to hide from his wrath, "All my fault, Marian?" His voice had barely been above a whispers. She gulped and shuddered as he gently stroked her cheek. "Do you not remember that I am the one who came for you? That I tried to help you? I married you without a second thought to save your honor! Don't you remember? Or did you forget that along with the fact you are - were - still a virgin?"

Marian blushed hotly at his unchecked words and looked down to the floor, his bare feet, her discarded dress - anywhere but his face. She did not know what to tell him - that fact was for certain. At the time, she hadn't known that Guy would realize the secret she was concealing; there was nothing to tell him now - except more lies… "You wouldn't have believed me had I told you." Marian consoled her suddenly pricking conscience that it wasn't a complete lie - he wouldn't have believed her.

Guy grimaced and let loose a long and loud sigh, "Marian. Marian, do you find me so wicked that I wouldn't listen to you?" Her silence was encompassing and all the answer he needed. Guy clenched his fists, his nails digging into the flesh of his palms, etching away at the skin and drawing tiny sparks of red. Thunderously, Guy moved from the bed and grabbed his undershirt and jacket, wrenching them on without any heed to his battered shoulder. He didn't even wince.

Pulling on his boots and strapping on his scabbard, Guy swung open the door and started to quit the room. Marian sat up further, "Where are you going?" In truth, her silence had not been to confirm his accusations about her opinion but to find a rational way to rebut them. However, Marian could not deny that she was glad he was leaving - her head was swimming.

Turning swiftly back around, Guy said, spit snapping out from his mouth as he gritted his teeth, "I'm going to get your father out of the bloody dungeon. Or are you going to accuse me, now - since I'm the devil on earth - of raping some toothless old hag at the market?"

That was uncalled for!"Guy!" Marian yelled, clambering out of bed and snatching the sheet closer about her. She ran out the door behind him, careful to keep the bed linens out from under her feet. Taking the steps two at a time, Marian managed to catch up with him before he left the manor. She grabbed onto his arm, "Guy! I never said that!"

He tried to pull his arm away but Marian gripped the ridges of his sleeve tightly. "Listen to me."

Guy turned toward her; his expression was grave, "What?" He tried to cross his arms, to protect his heart, show defiance, keep the world at bay - but found that he couldn't with her clinging to his leather.

Marian noticed his predicament as well and would have laughed if it were not for the topic at hand. "I didn't mean what I said, Guy. I don't think everything bad that happens is because of you. I had no right to condemn you; you came to my aid after all. _**And**_, I do not think you are the devil - I think-"

Guy quirked his eyebrows together, waiting impatiently for her to continue. Marian held her pause for a moment longer. Taking a deep breath, she tried to go on, "I think that - I don't know what I think. I am sorry." She hated to admit that, but her words were leaving her lips before she could stop them. Marian watched as Guy turned his overwhelmingly gloomy head back to the doorway. She had to say something else! "I do not wish to fight with you, Guy. Let us at least part friends." There was that hollow laugh once more, telling Marian that she had stumbled yet again. She hated this feeling, like walking on scattered shells; no matter what step you took, you were bound to crack one.

"Friends?" Guy asked. "I do not wish to be your 'friend,' Marian. I wish to be your husband - your lover. I am sick of you crying 'friendship' when that was never an option." He turned back to her and gripped her bare shoulders, "I want to do more than talk to you at supper or kiss you goodnight, I want to _care_ for you! Can't you see that? Didn't last night prove it?"

Marian felt her color rise at the mention of the previous night and all the connotations that clung to it. She knew that Guy meant well, he almost always meant well but that didn't change the fact that Marian was still unsure if she was happy with or only tolerant of his advances. Last night - well, last night Marian had been more than happy to accept his pursuit, even to return it kiss for kiss and caress for caress. Nevertheless, this sudden argument and the time to stew over her hasty amorous actions had clouded her judgment yet again. How exactly did she feel about Guy? She knew that he deserved a reply and nodded her head, almost unperceivable.

It was while she was still flushed, that Marian found Guy smirking. It was a rather smug look and it infuriated her to a breaking point. Guy could tell, and his grin increased, "Well then, we ought to get you back to the bedchambers, hadn't we? We wouldn't want the servants to talk about your attire. They'll think I refuse to provide you clothing."

Servants! She had forgotten about Guy's servants! Abruptly recollecting what she was wrapped in, Marian would have bolted up the stairs if it were not for Guy's hands holding her shoulders and his lips suddenly fixed to hers. When he pulled away, he ungallantly gestured for her to scurry back up to the master bedroom - instead of escorting her there himself. "When I come back," Guy said. "I don't wish to argue on this matter. Understood?"

Clutching the sheet tighter to her form and letting her glare speak volumes, Marian quickly ascended the stairs and secured the door behind her - leaving Guy's question unanswered in her wake. Guy's self-satisfied smirk would not be deterred though and he left Locksley in a slightly better mood than when he had first set out. One day, one day she would accept him wholeheartedly and without question; he only had to live till then…

Last night had been the most glorious of his life. Not only had he been allowed to fulfill his forbidden dreams but Marian had not been desecrated by the lecherous Winchester. He had a reason for not confronting Marian that night, when he had discovered the fact; he wanted to keep the eve perfect. Why spoil the memory of him consummating his wedding to the girl he loved with a fight? The discovery of her maidenhood and thrilled him to no end and he only planned to relish the fact that he was her first. Guy knew the fight would, and had come, later - there was no need to rush it.

* * *

><p>"Allan!"<p>

Jerking spontaneously in his half-awake state, Allan sat up, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head to clear it. "Wha' is it?" he managed to croak, his voice refusing to cooperate as he woke. Allan fought back a glare when Sir Guy's figure shadowed the doorway. "Yeah?" Allan said, hearing Guy sniff disdainfully.

"Have the groom saddle the horses - we're going to Nottingham," Guy said, encroaching on the straw spotting the floor. He heard Allan sigh and softly mumble something under his breath and decided he should say something else, "When we return, I'll have a room prepared for you." Gisborne fingered a bridle that hung on the wall and, though it was dim where he was, he saw Allan's eyes widen in happy surprise. "It will be in the servants' quarters," he added hastily, not wanting him to get any delusions of grandeur.

Allan slid off the pile of hay he had been slumbering on and clapped Guy on the shoulder, "Thanks mate."

Guy shrugged his arm away from the embrace. "Just be ready to go in a few moments," he said, turning and walking out of the barn.

Allan shook his head again, how could one man be so cold and yet be willing to provide him a roof over his head? He couldn't figure it and, though he was still perturbed at being pushed into the pond, Allan found the groom and told him to saddle two horses for Sir Guy and himself. They were going to Nottingham - to see the man who had nearly had him put to death…

* * *

><p>As Allan and Guy rode, side by side, Allan felt a measure of pride - he was strutting through Nottingham town, without a hood over his head, in broad daylight. He started nodding to any peasant who caught his eye; condescending to recognize them, for he was now a man of importance. He didn't think that his shoulders could get any straighter or his head any higher.<p>

But, as they always say, 'Pride goeth before a fall.' As Allan looked around him, he saw huddled whisperers, little ones tugging on their mother's clothes and pointing at him, averted glances filled with shame and hateful yet pitying looks. He also heard one word, spoken in hush but, to him, was louder than if it had been screamed from atop the battlements. One word that made the hair on the back of his neck ripple and stand straight. One word, "Traitor."

There was no doubt in Allan A Dale's mind as to whom they were speaking of. Straight shoulders sagged. High head fell against his breast. His heart sank and his disposition shattered. Did the world hold out nothing for him? Was he to be denied every comfort and shred of respectability that was out there? Respectability… Well, obviously he wasn't respectable now - employed by the Sheriff's master-at-arms. Allan managed to crack a grin at how ludicrous all of it was. Was it so paradoxical that he should be 'respectable' as an outlaw? He supposed that it was.

Allan knew that his life with Robin and the gang was deeply buried in the past; the days of eternity has swept away his former life and left him with a shell. Scrapless, hopeless, and friendless - Allan realized how alone he truly was, and wished that it were possible to turn back the hourglass and fix what went awry before. That was impossible and he knew that the only option was to forget the past, leave it behind him, and plough through his future - maybe, just maybe, he could make something of his life and regain his fallen reputation…

Allan followed Guy's suit and dismounted his horse, preparing to trail after him into the castle, when Guy said, "Stay here."

"Wi' the horses? Common Giz, ya must be pullen' my le-"

Guy interrupted before Allan could get the last word out, "Do you want another incident with the Sheriff? Or do you not recall the situation that you were placed in when you found him in foul spirits?"

Allan placed his hands in front of him, "Easy. Easy, I'll stay." He watched as Guy turned and stalked off and then huffed in his own annoyance. Well, this would give him a good opportunity to barter with his newly 'acquired' chain… With that, Allan A Dale set off in the direction of the market.

* * *

><p>Robin had yet to wake from Djaq's medicinal drink the day before and Much was worried. He had just gotten Robin to rise from his unconscious state and the next thing he knew, Robin was slumbering again. Hesitantly he approached Robin's cot, Much's hand was outstretched and he lightly touched the blanket covering his shoulder. "Master? Master Robin? You have to wake up."<p>

There was no response and Much felt a sickening dread wash over him. "Master?" he said and shook the blanket again but something didn't feel right this time. Tentatively Much drew back the blanket in order to reveal a bundle of wadded up coverlets. "Robin's gone! Come quick!" Much didn't wait until the others arrived; instead, he grabbed up his shield from his bunk and started to town - knowing that Robin would most likely pass at least the surrounding area on his quest for Marian.

It didn't take long for John, Djaq, and Will to run over, take in the situation, and follow Much. Robin had escaped… Unsure of where he might have gone, the gang went in the direction of Nottingham; praying that someone might have seen him ride out.

In truth, Robin had gone to town but, along with his plan to save Marian, he had revenge in his heart. Before he went after Marian, he was going to make Gisborne pay. Though this might sound illogical to some, to Robin it made perfect sense. He was going to make Guy suffer; how could that monster claim that he loved Marian and let her be taken by Winchester? Why didn't _he_ save her? As much as Robin hated to admit it, he would rather see Gisborne rescue Marian and continue his wooing of her, than have her in Winchester's illicit possession.

However, Robin was not able to find Sir Guy before his men found him. "Robin!" Much scolded, grabbing his shoulders and holding him still. "What are you doing? You could have been killed. Or is that your intention! Kill yourself and let me die of grief!"

Startled by his comrade's uncharacteristic outburst, Robin stared dumbfounded and, if it were not for his thoughts fixated on confronting Gisborne and Marian's unsavory predicament, would have smiled. "I'm going after him," Robin said, pulling away from Much's hard grasp.

"'Him?' Winchester you mean?"

Robin shook his head, "No, Gisborne. Then Winchester."

Much looked puzzled, "What for?"

"He is going to suffer - just as Marian has been suffering."

Much felt his own eyes grow large - even though he knew Robin hadn't meant it quite like that. He could almost hear Allan say something sarcastic if he were here. However, he wasn't and he doubted that any of them would see their former brother-in-arms again in the world of the living. "Master, why does Gisborne have to suffer? What has _he_ done?"

"He didn't save her. If he cared he would have," said Robin, shuffling away from the thick staff that was clutched tightly in John's fist - a fist that was steadily growing white with rage.

Little John lifted his rod up off the ground where the end had been resting, "We need to go to Sherwood… Now. It's not safe here."

Djaq stayed his hand, "Robin can walk. Come Robin, let us go."

His voice was angry as he spoke, and Robin's eyes narrowed, "No. I have to save Marian. Now, you're either with me, or against me. Pick."

Djaq watched as John gripped his staff tighter - if that were possible. She held up a hand again, preventing him from carrying out his intent, Robin didn't need another head wound and that would only add to his bitterness and determination. Robin was right, they needed to go after Marian but confronting Gisborne was an unnecessary task. Djaq was about to reassure this angry and impulsive love struck man that they were undoubtedly on his side and only needed a plan, but suddenly Will said on a surprised call, "Look over there!"

Four heads swiveled to see what their friend did and, startling everyone, there was Allan - strolling through town without a lick of fear shrouding his countenance. Sooner than Djaq had time to react, Robin had bolted from their little cluster and headed in the direction of Allan. She grasp at the air, trying in vain to reach him. "Robin!" she hissed, trying to keep her voice to a dull plea; he ignored her and, unceremoniously, they were forced to go after him.

* * *

><p>Allan had no warning before he found himself pinned to a building and a forearm shoved against his neck, preventing breath. This seemed to be happening to him a lot these days… He was staring into a set of bright unforgiving eyes - Robin's eyes.<p>

The last time he had looked into that face was when they were fighting to the death; obviously neither of them won that particular skirmish. Allan felt his teeth clench and his lips tug back into a sneer, revealing tightly clenched teeth. This was the man who wouldn't listen to him or give him a second chance. This man was the reason that the people suddenly looked down upon him instead of admiring him - as they used to. Allan didn't want to consider that while he was trying to become _more_ than one of Robin Hood's men, while he was trying to make a name for himself, he had indeed only blackened it.

It was when the trapped man saw his former friends stand behind Robin, did his face fall. He turned his head away; he didn't even want to look at them - why should they see his shame? Alas, if they saw his disgrace they might pity him and Allan A Dale did not want to be pitied. He could stand on his own two feet, make his bed and lie in it, pretend that all was right with the world when really it was cracked and bleeding. He turned back and glared, "Wha' do you want?"

He watched Djaq frown, had she been happy to see him alive? If she had, he thought, she wasn't anymore… Robin pressed his arm further into Allan's throat, issuing a cough from the latter. Robin's words were tinted with vengeance, "What are you doing here?"

"I live here now, working for Guy," Allan said, very matter-of-factly - trying to get some of his renowned cockiness to shine through. It wasn't working quite as well as he had anticipated…

"Gisborne? Where is he?" Robin said loosening his grip as he remembered what he had come to Nottingham to do. Despite what he tried to tell himself, he didn't want to see Allan die and he wanted less to be the one to end his existence.

"Why do you care?"

"Because, I'm going to make his life a nightmare. He let Winchester take Marian. He should have saved her if he was _wooing_ her!" Robin let the words snap sardonically off his tongue - for if Guy had saved her, Marian would not be in the horrible position she was now… Gisborne's heart was truly as black as the rest of him and Robin was not going to let him get away with taking up his love's name in vain. "He professes to love her and then lets her be fed to the dogs!"

Allan couldn't help the dry chuckle that escaped him, "Robin, Giz did go after her. She's back at Locksley for God's sake. Married."

"Married? To whom?" Though Robin would never be considered dull witted, far from it in fact, his mind couldn't wrap around the fact that _his _Marian could have married Guy of Gisborne… Surly there must be some mistake…

"Guy, of course!"

Robin's arm dropped from where it pinned Allan. His eyes clouded and he felt his heart quit beating. How? "Dear God, she's in hell." How was he to save her now? She was married Guy of Gisborne and it would be morally wrong to take her. Surely though, God would forgive him taking another man's wife if that man was an undeserving brute, incapable of affection only competent of cruelty. There was nothing moral about him…

Stepping out of range of Robin's hands, Allan felt the need to defend Guy, "Oi, he saved her reputation."

Robin clenched his fists, "Saved it? He just finished it off! She's married to _him_, what kind of reputation is that?"

Robin had attacked him physically and now Allan wanted to get his own retribution; Will, Djaq, and John were there and he didn't want to knock Robin senseless - though he wasn't so sure that would be the outcome - in front of them. No, his stabs would have to be with words. "Well it's far better than what you did. You were letting her be some other man's whore." He regretted his expressions before they were halfway out of his mouth. Why had he done that?

Allan had to jump backwards to escape his former leader's sudden assault. He gave a half-hearted smile when Will stepped in front of Robin's onslaught - maybe the others still cared about him. This little flame of hope was promptly smothered when Will spoke looking directly at him, "Let him alone, Robin. You're better than he is."

Though Robin's eyes were filled with wounded pride and hate, he slowly turned away from Allan - who felt even more of his own humanity fall away. He had to save some of his soul...

"Oi, Giz is at the castle," Allan said quickly, startling even himself. "Marian's at Locksley - alone." Was this some twisted attempt at redemption? Betray one man for another? He had betrayed Robin to Guy - wasn't it only just that he betray Guy to Robin?

While Robin continued to walk away from him, apparently disregarding his words, Allan felt his chest give a small swell when Djaq turned and looked back at him. However, he then felt his whole body constrict when he realized that Guy would kill him if he found out… Suddenly thoughtful, Allan recalled a saying that he had heard somewhere about not being able to serve two masters - he couldn't help but wonder if this counted?

* * *

><p>Marian shut the bedchamber door behind her and made her way down the stairs. What Guy had said earlier was bothering her and made her concentrate on other things than the previous night - a blessing in disguise. Did he think that his parents' accidental deaths were his fault? How could that be? Surely he didn't go through his life feeling responsible for something that he couldn't have prevented… A fire killed them as well as Robin's father, if she recalled her Father's words - though why Lord Malcolm was there would always be a mystery to her. Guy had been no more than five and ten - unable to stop the calamity.<p>

Yet he had still said the words and that disturbed Marian. _Had_ Guy suffered - believing that he killed his parents? Certainly that would drive anyone to the point of madness! Thankfully she realized that Guy was not to that summit but she shuddered to think if her father died because of her; it was bad enough when the Sheriff banished him to the dungeon on her account. Taking a deep reassuring breath Marian knew the truth of the matter was something she would have to pry out from Guy - that would be a large task on its own.

With these thoughts in mind, Marian had just reached the bottom step when she heard a creak come from the floor upstairs. Curious, she went back up and looked in the hall - nothing. Quietly, Marian opened the door to Guy's room - _their _room, she corrected herself. Her breath caught in her chest and she stared - unsure whether to be furious or overjoyed. For, standing next to the window, eyes glistening with passion, was Robin. "Marian," he said, choking on the words. "I'm here to rescue you."

* * *

><p><em>AN I am sorry for the long wait! I have been busy and we had two friends die do to various causes. It has been very hectic and sad around here._

_So I hope that everyone was in character. _

_Robin and Allan… I know that Robin usually keeps himself under control but he does profusely threaten Allan in a later episode. Robin does have a halfhearted excuse, to go after Guy - his head is still slightly muddled… He might not be thinking as clearly as he would without the 'largish' knot on his skull. Oh, and Will is just still hurt by his friend's actions - he doesn't __**really**__ hate Allan. _

_I also hope that the fight between Guy and Marian was believable and that they were in character… _

_Next chapter has Robin and Marian's conversation…_

_I would like to give a big thank you to the anonymous reviewers out there! ;)_

_Thanks to LadyKate for help with the French. :D_

_Ordure - piece of filth_

_Also, I hate to say it, but there might only be one update for September… I am going on vacation with my parents and then going to stay two weeks with my aunt and uncle. I will get the next chapter written but I don't know when it will be posted. Sorry about that - but rest assured that I am not quitting on the story - just unable to get to the internet…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood BBC and the BBC - not me - owns any conversations or characters that you recognize._


	9. Bane

_Bane_

"Marian," Robin said, his hands shaking with emotions, "I'm here to rescue you."

Marian didn't know what to think. Her heart jumped into her throat as she stood; staring at him - Robin - eyes filled to the brim with loathing. He had always angered her; almost every moment they were together, Robin never failed to infuriate her. Though she would become irritated at him, she knew that most of what he said was meant to do just that - get a rise out of her and she always played the game.

That was what it was though, a game… This time it was different, he hadn't been there when she needed him the most. He left her to her fate, betrayed her trust, and now - now when Guy had brought her back, had made her his, now Robin came to reclaim her like a piece of linen to be bartered with, abandoned in the rain and then set out to dry. No, Marian would not let him ring her out - not again. She waited for him too many times and she was sick of it.

"Does it look like I need rescuing?" she glared at him and his eyes softened, hurt beyond words.

"Marian, I - I don't care what he's made you do. I just want-"

"Guy hasn't **_made_** me do anything." Marian moved from her position at the door to stand directly before him; her hands upon her hips, her eyes were flashing fire.

"Then he hasn't touched you!" Robin felt his entire being swell at the thought that Gisborne hadn't molested her in any fashion. He reached out to take her arm - he had to get her to Sherwood before that creature came back! His face fell when she snatched her arm out of his reach.

"I never said that, Robin," her words were meant to hurt, make him angry - she was playing her own game, fighting her own hurt with expressions intended to crush.

Robin of Locksley felt his heart clench and twist he couldn't help but recall her words; _Guy hasn't **made** me do anything. I never told you that._ Was she telling him that she had willing gone to Gisborne's bed? Willingly let him kiss her, hold her, touch her? Dear God, what for?

Robin could barely get the word out as it caught in his mouth, "Why?"

Seeing his face - his eyes so bright and tormented, Marian felt some of her hate slip away. This was Robin after all, she had known him from before she could remember; he had been her protector, her guider, her sweetheart… No! How could she think such thoughts when he had let her down - when she was married to Guy? Surely it was sinful to hold feelings for another when she was already wed… She didn't know how to answer him. Coherent thought seemed to slip past and she could grasp onto nothing. Her anger was cooling and slowly being replaced with a dull ach; a throbbing buried deep in her heart. If he cared, why hadn't he come for her?

"We are married. Robin - I - Guy saved me, he married me, he - why didn't you come?" the last part was hardly above a whisper, so soft and yet the words held such power, power enough to kill. Robin took a step forwards and, as she saw the sorrow and compassion for her splayed on his face, at that moment all Marian wanted was for him to hold her but she knew that would never be possible - not now… Instead of falling into his arms and crying over the shattered picture she had painted of her life, Marian returned to her anger, pushing away the burning hurt trying to let the hate squelch it completely, "Where were you!" Her own image of her future, though tattered and torn since Winchester carried her off, was suddenly ripped in two. The feelings she had tried to suppress for Robin and apply to Guy reversed and suddenly Guy was standing at the dark locked door of her heart and Robin was basking in the warm glow of her affections.

Robin looked as if he had been slapped in the face. "I tried. I tried." His head was spinning and he thought that if he did not sit down he would stumble; his world was careening out of his control. Marian was married to Gisborne and it was his fault - his own blasted fault! If only he had- well there was nothing he could do about it now; it was over and done with. He suddenly found his future lying cockeyed in the shadows along with his other lost dreams.

He turned around - he couldn't face Marian anymore, not when he knew that she thought so little of him. Leaning up against the wall, Robin pressed his forehead into the back of his hand. There was a gnawing feeling inside his soul, one that he recognized all too well but didn't want to identify - the blind rage of revenge. He had wanted to make Gisborne suffer for not saving her but now he wanted to not only make him suffer but kill him for a different reason. Robin's vengeance was now directed at him for saving Marian and for destroying his life and hers in the process.

On the other side of the room, closer to halfway around the world, stood Marian. Her formerly severe face had been tempered yet again as she watched Robin's features contort into pain. A thought that had slipped away from her unexpectedly returned: Robin tried to come? Had something happened to him?  
>She needed an answer and though she didn't wish to hear it for fear of what the results would bring, Marian asked again, gulping for air in the process, "Where were you?"<p>

With his head and hand still pressed against the wall, Robin began in a shaky voice, "I was riding - after you. I was thrown from my horse." He heard her make a disbelieving sound and snapped around to face her, "If you don't believe me, take a look at this!" Roughly, in his anger, Robin pulled back the thick mess of bangs that covered his head and reveled to Marian and obvious wound - healing as it was. "I tried to save you! But when I woke, it was days later, days too late. I was going after you and heard that Gisborne had brought you here. I'm here to save you!"

Marian felt her heart stop. Robin had tried to come - he really had. He was prevented but now was here to save her - without a care that not one but possibly two men tarnished her! The question of if Robin would still love her after Winchester had stolen her was answered - and it was not the answer that Marian had been expecting after his absence. He still loved her and she had betrayed him with his worst enemy! Yet, his worst enemy had been her savior and if it had not been for Guy, she would have been violated. Guy loved her, but so did Robin…

Sitting down on the bed, Marian cradled her head in her hands, "It's too late. Robin, I'm sorry." Sorry she was, for doubting and hating him when he had legitimate reasons for not coming to her aid. Sorry for marrying Guy in such haste. Sorry for not waiting for him and all the while thinking ill of him. Her very core ached when she thought of Robin and her own disappointments. It also chided her for the regret she felt about wedding Guy, after he was so kind to her and so loving the night before. Could she keep him locked away from her?

Robin felt a monster spring to life inside him. He raked a hand through his hair - he would sooner go rot in hell than give her up so easily! "This is my home! And everything inside it belongs to me! When the king comes home, Gisborne will die as the traitor he is and everything that he stole from me I will reclaim - including you. Till then, I can take you away from this nightmare and keep you safe."

Marian stood again, "I am nobody's property!" She shivered, though the air was not cold, but the chill that had run through her when he mentioned Guy's death was an unexplainable frost on her countenance.

"I did not mean it like that, Marian."

"I take the vows I made seriously: What God has yoked, let no man put asunder. I will not betray him, Robin."

Robin got the sickening feeling that she was not talking about God when she said the last bit… "If a marriage is forced, the innocent party under duress, it is unlawful and can be annulled."

Marian couldn't understand why the word 'annulment' should make her cringe so. "Robin," she took a deep breath and tried to compose her feelings for fear they would overtake her and carry her away, "Everything is a choice. I have to live with mine."

Robin's hope sank, no matter what he tried, he couldn't force her to see reason, "**You** may have to, but **I** don't. One day you are going to need me. One day he is going to grow tired of you and hurt you. On that day, I'll come for you. If it takes his temper and fists to make you see reason when I cannot, then so be it. But, I will be there for you, Marian. And I'll kill him if I have to."

Before she could utter any protest to his words or to his sudden proximity, Marian felt his lips brush past hers in a feather light kiss. Her heart fluttered then shattered when she recalled the tall dark man who also loved her, who would never harm her like Robin had warned. She turned her head away before he could get bolder, "You should leave." His eyes made her think better of her words and she added, "Guy could return at any moment."

Robin nodded and crawled out the window, pausing and turning back around, "Marian, please reconsider. We - we're meant to be together." His hand brushed her cheek and then, with an overwhelming amount of sadness at the distressing sight of her head turning away, Robin ducked out the window and was gone.

She stared out the window after him, watching as he slipped stealthily into Sherwood. Even at the distance she was, she could see the slump of his shoulders and the dip of his head. She suddenly felt the desire to call after him, tell him to come back and she would go with him. She opened her mouth to call his name, but no sound came out. Not even a squeak.

Thinking of Guy had made her stop; she could not betray his already scant trust in her! Besides, couldn't she help Robin far better if she remained in the castle? But, she shouldn't be helping him at all really… Not since she married Guy. How could she be married to that man and still hold feelings for another? The thought itself made her sick and a dreadful feeling of unfaithfulness stole over her. However, as she watched Robin, she felt her heart ach for him and herself. Alas, she could only have one or the other - and she had chosen the other. Only death would end her choice… That notion startled her as well; made her feel fearful and vulnerable - as if a part of her knew that one day all her choices would be for naught, all would be lost, and she would be back at the beginning.

Surly the king would kill Guy and Marian would not have the chance to straighten out her feelings for him. She would never be able to make a proper choice - decide if she cared for him or loathed him. The regret that the wayward thought caused, made her breath harried. She knew, deep down she knew, that Guy would meet his end by a taut hempen rope. Then she would be free to marry Robin - wouldn't she? But would she want to? Would she want to marry another when the man that she had shared an existence with - more intimately than anyone else - was dead? Could she be so fickle and forget about the way he loved her before he was even cold in his grave. Her sudden instinct was to treat Guy kindly when he returned home, try to show him some affection and not hurt his pride; care for him as one would care for a graying old dog not long bound for this world. Marian stilled the rapid beating of her heart. Oh, dear God - why did she have to feel this way? Was her marriage to be the bane of her existence?

* * *

><p>Guy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could feel something was wrong - there was no doubt about that. The castle felt colder than usual and empty. His chamber this morning had a comforting closeness and now, when he was walking the stark wide halls alone, everything felt vacant. That did not explain the chill and feeling of dread as he approached the Sheriff's chamber. He rubbed his neck instinctively.<p>

Guy's throat was not the only thing that pained him; his shoulder burned as it had been doing for the past few days. But today the dull ach had turned into a feeling of fire. Nevertheless, he ignored it, as he had the entire morning. It would not be long till it dissipated as had all past wounds he had received.

His head ached; the fight with Marian must have taken a toll on his wellbeing. Guy tried to conjure up thoughts of last night - to soothe the sting of their battle. It was in vain however, for just as he began to think upon the subject did he hear laughter echo from the Sheriff's chamber. Instead of quelling his nerves, the laughter only served to set them on edge and Guy felt his heart sink - this was a bad sign indeed.

Cautiously, Guy pushed open the door; there sat the Sheriff behind his desk, a half empty chalice placed to his right and, standing before him, was a man that Guy couldn't place. The stranger stood tall, his face was young and handsome, hair - the color of bronzed leather - swooping over one dark blue eye. He couldn't have been out of his mid-twenties and yet he stood before Vaisey with a practiced ease - unconcerned and at his leisure. Guy's brows furrowed and grew black as he noticed the outsider's spurs - a knight…

Guy coughed, "Milord?"

"Ah, Gisborne! Nice of you to finally join us. I was beginning to think that you were still too engrossed with your new wife to bother with us. I was telling Spencer here, you remember Sir Spencer of course? Well I was just telling him that you could provide a room for him at Locksley."

Guy felt his head throb more, dear God why him? But he now knew who the guest was; Spencer was one of the visiting Black Knights. Surely he should be gone by now? The unknown reason why he had stayed on ate at Guy - the Sheriff was plotting again. Guy could have laughed, _Of course, when wasn't the Sheriff scheming?_ He didn't want this man intruding at his home. "Milord? Do you think that is wise? Marian-"

The wicked gleam in Vaisey's eyes sent another chill through Guy, who didn't have a chance to finish for Vaisey interrupted, "Oh, yes! Marian! You're concerned for her wellbeing. You don't think that it is wise to confront her with another man, do you?"

Ignoring Guy's frown and threatening 'milord,' the Sheriff continued, looking at Spencer, "Marian, Guy's blushing new bride - well, almost new. Just been rescued from a awkward predicament, you see. Raped by another man - missing for several days in fact. Apparently, Guy is worried about her feelings." Vaisey turned to Guy, his leering smile almost too much for him.

The tone that the Sheriff suddenly employed was one of feigned concern, "Is that right Gisborne? You don't want her to be frightened of Sir Spencer?" Vaisey grinned at Guy, mocking him, and then turned his gaze back to Spencer, "We'll just let you remain at the castle."

Guy knew his fists were clenched tightly, yet he did not care. Though he didn't want to believe that the Sheriff would be capable of doing so, Guy suddenly knew that Vaisey had put on this charade of re-rooming Spencer only to spread word that Marian had been violated. How badly did he want to speak out in her defense - tell them that she had not been harmed. Tell them that he had saved her in time. Tell them that she had been pure and unspoiled!

As he opened his mouth to knock their thoughts and ideas, Guy recalled Marian's own words to him: _You wouldn't have believed me_. Tis true and applicable, _they_ wouldn't believe him. His mind sped back and told him to fetch the wedding night sheet, thrust it into their hands and show them proof of her spotlessness. However, that would humiliate her and make her hate for him grow - drowning out any semblance of love. Could he knowingly do such and risk her favor? No, he could not. He would show compassion, show humanity, and push his own desires aside and forgo showing that _he_ had been conqueror. He would show Marian that he honored her, no matter what others thought of her reputation.

Sir Spencer gave a fake smile, in Guy's direction. Guy glared, and crossed his arms - tilting his head back to put on a show of superiority to the young imp, "Milord, I ask permission to release Edward."

Vaisey lifted his head from where he had been looking down, a twitch played across his lips, "Very well. Go set the old fart free." He moved his arms to simulate a flapping motion, "Might be too weak to fly though… Still sickening. But don't worry, I've had Blight down to take a peek at him - he's bled out the bad humors."  
>It was not the common practice of bloodletting that caused Guy to cringe - it was how the Sheriff said it, too happy, too full of glee. Dear God, what would he find in the dungeons? "I'll send him to Locksley with Allan, milord." Guy hurried down the hall and to the stairwell that led to the cells, he took the stairs two at a time. His vision swam and Guy decided that was not the best tactic. The cold and damp of the dungeon lashed out at him and he only hoped that Edward was still alive - this was no place for an old man.<p>

Guy approached the cell with trepidation, his chest tightened from cold as well as fear, "Edward?" He stood at the bars and looked in, expecting the worst… Grabbing the jailer by his collar, Guy shook him when he saw the object of his attention sprawled out over a thin smattering of hay. "Get him out of there!" Guy barked, giving the man another shake when he fumbled with the keys.

Throwing open the door as soon as he heard the lock click, Guy dropped down to his knees by Edward's head. He checked for a pulse. He was still alive, but Guy needed to get him to Marian - soon. If only so he could see his lost child one more time…

Putting most of Edward's limp weight on his right side, Guy managed to heave him to his feet. Edward had opened his eyes and looked about him - the stare was almost blank. Despite the blurry gaze of Edward, Guy was aware that he was recognized by what was said, "Marian? You couldn't find her." The statement touched Guy's bone more than he could care to admit. It showed just how much Edward felt - all was lost and he was willing to accept it. His daughter, his only child, was gone and he was left alone to die - never knowing if she still lived.

Guy managed to stifle a grunt; his arm was in pain, the skin was growing tight because of the dungeon's cold. Then the weight that Edward put on his other arm was drawing the skin from as far as his left shoulder. One arm wasn't nearly enough to hold onto the sick man. "No, I found her. She's safe, Edward, Marian's safe."

The sudden bright disbelief that filled those formerly expressionless eyes, cut Guy. Then Edward of Knighton shook his head, "Please." He pulled a gulp of air into his lungs, "It is unkind to lie to a dying man." Another acceptance.

"I don't lie," Guy said, grunting as he struggled with him on the steps; he was trying to keep Edward's weight from causing him to tumble down - snapping both their necks. Guy felt weak and he hated that feeling of helplessness, for Guy of Gisborne should always be in control. Never had he felt so pathetic, for each second Edward was in his grasp Guy felt his strength being sapped from his arms. Guy couldn't recall having felt this way over the past few days. Could his emotions have been running too high? His thoughts too focused on more important matters than his own body? Either way, Guy wished that his head would let him be and that his arms felt stronger.

They almost fell all the way back down the stairs. On the last step, on the very top one, Edward's knees buckled and Guy saw the flight of never ending steps begin to swirl and spiral before his eyes. Guy managed to keep hold of the frail man, regaining his own footing before they could plummet to the cold stone below. He felt his breath shudder as he hoisted his father-in-law back up and nigh on carried him out of the castle.

Outside, Guy stole a glance around looking in vain for Allan. Guy cursed, hadn't he told him to stay there? Selective hearing. Growling, Guy assisted the frail man down the second flight of stairs and to the stable. How in God's name was he supposed to keep that man on a horse?

Where was Allan! Guy entered the stable, "Hitch up the Sheriff's carriage!" The order fell to the ears of the young stable lad - the very one who Guy had threatened previously. Holding back a gulp the boy did as Guy bid, trying not to recall how the cold blade of the knife felt on his skin. The young groom should be getting used to this…

* * *

><p>Guy almost couldn't remember why his thoughts were so distracted when they drew into Locksley. But between Edward's condition, the borrowing of the Sheriff's carriage, and his own feeling of malaise, Guy of Gisborne's thoughts were bouncing from one subject to the next.<p>

He almost dreaded Marian's reaction when she saw her father. Would she blame him for this as well? Surely she would, it was his fault that Edward was in the dungeons another night. If only he hadn't been weak and hadn't given into the Sheriff's orders. If only he was man enough to stand up to him. If only he could be more humane. But certainly that was weakness! How was it possible to feel weak for not taking a stand and showing humanity when he felt that humanity was the personification of weakness itself? Guy shook his head, if humanity and surrender both embodied weakness - then Guy was the most spineless of them all.

"Father!" Marian's voice tugged at Guy's heart as he entered the manor. "What has he done to you?"

Guy stood back, leaning against the doorframe; he didn't want to get involved with the scene playing out before him. It was better to stay detached, aloof. He was shaken out of his thoughts - which were being more muddled by the minute - by Marian's next words, "Thank you."

Guy gave a dry laugh, "For what?" He rolled his shoulders back to push himself off the frame; the action elicited a strangled groan from him. His shoulder felt like a beating heart, thumping and pounding on its own.

Marian bit her tongue, she was drawn - she needed to go to her husband and tend him as well. His shoulder, must still pain him… Right now, her father needed her and if she went to Guy, he would become smug and arrogant, believing that she was anxious to be near him. All things considered, she _was_ eager to be by him, if only to try to prove to herself that she cared for him - her husband - and had feelings for him and not Robin. But she held back, she did not want to make the first move - not be the first to yield.

Guy's breath came heavy when he next spoke, the pain in his shoulder having jarred his breathing, "I'll send for a physician." Guy's first thoughts wandered to Pitts, but he had been disposed of - killed by the Sheriff. He had outlived his usefulness. Guy cringed and Sir Spencer suddenly dominated his thoughts. Was he himself outliving his usefulness? Would he arrive at the castle one day only to be skewered at the end of the Sheriff's blade?

Marian stopped his ideas yet again, "I said a healer, if you please. They are less wrapped up in themselves."

Guy looked befuddled - he hadn't realized that she had been talking. "Of course," he said, stepping out the door. He turned around to look at Marian again. She was so perfect, kneeling next to the chair her father was in, her hands holding onto his. She caught his stare, "Yes?"

He was flustered, oh how he didn't want to go back to Vaisey! He wanted to stay here and be with Marian. Marian and only Marian - Edward be damned! He couldn't, "If A Dale comes crawling back here tell him I'm looking for him."

* * *

><p>Allan couldn't have cared if the King's entire army was looking for him at the moment. The chain he had lifted off Winchester's corpse still jingled in his pocket, three ales filled his belly, and a fourth was clutched in his hand. As he sat with his head on the table, Allan felt a twisting feeling in his stomach - and it wasn't the drink. He despised himself for telling Robin that Marian was alone. He knew that it was wrong to betray Guy's trust - for he was the only one who trusted him now.<p>

All the secrets that he had sold and given away made a fabric that was slowly weaving a noose about his neck - and the feeling was getting tighter every moment. Every new confidential detail he gave away put another stitch into the cloth. It was a despicable emotion, to feel so self-loathing, and Allan wished desperately that it would go away.

How could he get out of this mess? Guy was his doom and Robin wouldn't take him back… His mother always said that he would dig himself into a pit one day, and only he would be able to pull himself out of it. Was the blackness that he felt encircling him that prophesied pit?

Allan did know that his wanting to have a better life was vanity. Why should he be able to have coin in his pocket and a warm bed when everyone else who mattered didn't? Sighing, Allan took another swig from his mug; he answered his own question - _he shouldn't._

* * *

><p>Guy made it back to the castle - his head felt as if it would burst. The ordeal of getting Edward out of the dungeon and taking him back to Locksley had taken its toll on him. Guy felt an involuntary shudder creep along his spine when he imagined what the Sheriff would say at his long absence. If Allan had been where he was supposed to be, Guy would not be facing the Sheriff's wrath anew.<p>

He stumbled, nothing to be alarmed of - but Guy felt his shoulders grow stiff. Was his wound causing these problems? Surely it was like every other wound he had been dealt. It would pass.

Head still aching he entered into the Sheriff's chamber and was screamed at and derided for his troubles. When Guy started to explain why he was the one who had to take his father-in-law home, the Sheriff only yelled 'Silence!' directly into his face. Guy growled when he witnessed Sir Spencer's obnoxious smirk. "Go terrorize peasants or something useful and stop mewling over old men. I never thought you would manipulate your relationship with Marian by showing compassion to her daddy. Maybe I should praise you for thinking outside the box? I bet she'll be fawning in your arms when you come riding up tonight. Enjoy Gisborne. But do I ever want you doing your bidding on my time. A clue: No!"

Guy quit the room, his stirrups clanged down the passageway in his anger. He felt his blood drum hot under his skin as he started down the steps to the outside, to his horse. To hell with the Sheriff! Guy's steps swirled before his eyes and he stumbled again. His chin knocked against the stone and he felt his body twist and tumble as he fell. The pounding in his head lessened as he felt the darkness that loomed around his eyes enclose him…

* * *

><p><em>AN I am so sorry for the long wait! I was much busier on my trip than I had anticipated. I promise to get started on the next chapter right away to make up for it! Now in the ne__xt chapter we will find out exactly what is wrong with Guy. (I know I still have to explain about Robin and his riding incident - bare with me.) Any guesses? The title of this chapter might provide a clue. It has something to do with him getting stabbed but not quiet what you are thinking…_

_Allan will have a larger role - don't worry. And there will be some more of Robin and Marian angst. Hopefully Marian will get her emotions under control one day soon. Guy doesn't have any patience to be a patient and Vaisey is rather cranky that Guy is absent again._

_I promise that the next chapter will have some more humor to it - this chapter just didn't allow for any. Good grief!_

_I hope that Robin and Marian were believable… As well as Guy._

_Thank you all for reading!_


	10. Personal Devils

_Personal Devils _

Marian wrapped the blanket around her father's weary shoulders, pressing the cup of warmed wine into his hands. He did not seem so bad off now that he was fed and set by the fire. The healer had come; Guy at least had heeded her wish. She was a short stout woman who made a large show of bossing Marian and the other servants about. The action grated on Marian's already worn countenance, yet she kept the peace for her Father if nothing else.

In-between the tasks the impudent healer had assigned her, Marian managed to whisper to Edward of her marriage to Guy and how he came to her aid. As she knelt by her father, watching him slowly sip from his goblet she twitched as the short woman commanded, "Fetch some more hot water!"

Stiffly, Marian stood up, "Let one of the servants get it - I'll stay here with my-"

She was cut off, that woman had the cheek to interrupt her! "You'll do as I say, young one."

Marian felt her fists clench tightly, she didn't want to show this woman disrespect, when Father was being tended by her. Nevertheless, Marian didn't want treated like a child, being trampled underfoot when she wasn't wanted. _She had a husband to do that now_. This was not some stranger's home she was encroaching upon, this was hers and she was Lady of the manor, "I'll stay here with my father. You can have the servants fetch the water." Marian looked back at Edward with a triumphant nod of the head.

Had Marian only known that the healer woman was trying to keep her mind occupied so she was not dwelling on all the horrors that could happen, she might not have been so quick to take offence. However, Marian did not know these things and her temper was in an ire.

* * *

><p>Allan rested his head in the crook of his arm, praying all forget him and leave him to sleep off his <em>medicinal aid<em>… That was not to be, for a quick hard hand unexpectedly gripped the back of his neck and he felt yanked to a standing position and shaken forcefully. His first thought was that Guy had found him in his state of debauchery and was giving him his punishment. "Oi! Giz, Giz, I'm _**sorry**_. Lemme go would yah?" his knees knocked against his chair when he was brutally turned to face his assailant. Who he saw, shocked him.

Allan could not figure why this unknown man was attacking him! Had he gambled with him and won? That was the only thing that Allan could think of. When he felt his foe's fist connect with his cheek, Allan knew that this was no mere trifling matter.

"Now," the man panted, "Get your sorry carcass back to the castle. The Sheriff wants you."

Rubbing the intensifying red mark on his face, Allan glared, "An' why the devil should I believe you?" He almost shuddered when the man raised his fist again, but held his ground - he didn't want to give this brute any opportunity to hit him again while he cowered.

"You'll believe me if you value your neck. The Sheriff can be mighty callous when it comes to his choice of punishments - but you know that already, don't you? There might be another pit of pitch waiting your arrival."

Allan held back his gulp, so the Sheriff had sent him… Hadn't Guy told him not the cross paths with that odious man just yet? Why didn't Gisborne come and fetch him? Allan pursed his lips together in a thin line - he didn't trust this sardonically smiling man who attacked him and whose eyes were leering at him, daring him to fight back.

It was a brisk walk back to the castle. Allan was angered when his escort shoved him as they were mounting the stairs - there was no reason for that action. Allan could hear the Sheriff before he even laid eyes on him - the man was in an uproar. Allan held back another gulp… Was this on account of him?

He was surprised when the Sheriff pointed at him, "Go fetch the leper!"

Allan held his hands in front of him, a sickly feeling overtaking him, "Oi, I'll do a lot a things but I'm not risken' my neck do'in that." He felt Vaisey's eyes bounce over him, their glare prominent.

"Go! Get! Gisborne's! Woman!"

_But she's not a lep- Oh_. Allan cringed because he didn't really want to stay and ask his next question, "Should I tell 'er why?"

"Tell her that Guy has been dealt and unfortunate blow. Struck by a venom even more deadly that her own poisonous piety."

Allan was quicker than most would give him credit for, "Poison? How?"

"If I knew that I'd be a bloody physician! Now get out!"

Allan turned and went out the door, turning almost sideways to avoid the short little man cradling a crock full of leaches that came in to take his place. Allan wanted to keep as far away from those squirming little buggars as possible. "Blight!" he heard Vaisey call out. "Good, good. Now go and fix him before he tries to escape - again..." Allan stopped dead in his tracks - was leaving Giz alone a good idea?

* * *

><p>Allan A Dale banged loudly on Locksley door; he rested against the frame, fidgeting with his hand inside his pocket - twiddling with his chain. His head felt light and airy, almost like he was floating - Saints above! That sounded eerily like witchcraft… He stood to attention when Thornton answered his knock glaring down at him. Allan felt abashed, his thoughts drifted from the ungodly practice of magic to the question of: did Thornton viewed him as a traitor also?<p>

"Lady Marian tells me the master is looking for you," Thornton said, disapproval showing on his face. Though he would candidly admit that he greatly favored Master Robin over Sir Guy, the aged caretaker did not approve of indolent behavior to either man. They were their Lords and deserved treated as such. In addition, there was the fact - the less that Sir Guy's questionable temper was aggravated the better for those in his employ.

"I've jus' come from the castle. I'm to see Marian - Guy's been poisoned," Allan shifted off the frame, standing before Thornton. Though he knew that he was not being as respectful to his elders as he should, Allan couldn't rid himself of the defiance his mother had tried to whip out of him. If this man chose to look down on him, then so be it - but he wasn't going to fawn on his boots.

Thornton felt his mouth fall and his stomach clench. Blessed Mother! If Guy of Gisborne died, who then would the Sheriff place in his stead? Sir Guy was far from a Saint but he was better then other lords that graced Nottingham. Better the devil you do than the devil you don't…

Stepping aside, Thornton allowed Allan to pass through. The latter kept his posture slouched to make it appear that he didn't care. Allan stopped mid-step - the terrible thing was that he did care… He didn't bloody well know why, but he did - far too much. Straightening up, Allan walked further in the manor and came upon Marian.

He knew that as soon as her eyes locked onto his frame that she was not pleased. "Did you know that Guy has been here? Looking for you?" Allan rubbed the back of his neck, how the devil was he supposed to tell her this? He attempted to console himself with the knowledge that Marian would not feel any great amount of love lost - right? She didn't really love Guy; she loved Robin and that was it. It was strange that what seemed like common knowledge to him should make him feel saddened. Guy had given him the second chance that Robin hadn't… But wasn't Guy also the cause of his betrayal to Robin? If he hadn't listened to Gisborne, in the first place, he wouldn't have needed that second chance.

Edward was sitting there, healthier looking than Allan would have expected - that gave him some hope, Marian would take the news better since her father wasn't on his death bed - only her husband. Allan gestured to Edward, "Your father doin' alright?" When Marian gave him a snappish answer, Allan ground his heels into the floor trying to keep calm and rational - he didn't want to come off as an unfeeling curd. "Marian," Allan said, "I've got some bad news for yah."

Marian stopped dead. Dear lord, no! She gulped, remembering the way his lips had felt against hers, the way she told him to go, how much she had loathed him for the past few days when he had been injured himself... Marian held her composure, standing behind Edward's chair and staring at Allan. Her words came out barely above a whisper, "No, I just saw - what happened?"

She looked so torn down and distressed that Allan couldn't meet her eyes, "He was poisoned." He watched Marian half mouth the words back to herself.

"How?" She said, her breath hitching before she asked, making her question have a higher pitch than what she would have cared for.

"I'm only guessen' from his stab wound," Allan said, his heart went out to her as she stood there stiff and blinking at him her eyes just catching a glistening of moisture.

Marian felt her heart stop - she shouldn't have sent him away! If only she had gone with him like he'd asked, if only she had been kinder to him… Now - now he could be on the brink of death and it was her callous actions that had sent him there. "Who stabbed him?"

It was Allan's turn to blink incredulously at Marian. He furrowed his brow, "Are you al'right? Why don't yah sit down?" He approached and gently took her forearm between his hands - attempting to guide her to the nearest chair. It was startling to Allan when she pulled away. "Take it easy, now," he said, "Just think back a little, al'right? Remember Winchester?"

"Of course I remember him!" Marian said, twisting away from his oncoming hands yet again.

Allan cringed, the only way he could describe her tone was that of a bark. "Then you remember that he stabbed Guy!" Allan winced, catching the hateful way his words sounded.

"Guy? Who are you talking about?"

Allan spread his arms for added impact, "Guy! Who do you think I'm talkin' about?"

Marian felt relief. Thank God, it wasn't Robin - her conscience could be at ease, relieved that she hadn't sent him to an early grave. Then Allan's words seemed to slap her from a different perspective - Guy was the one poisoned. Her prior thoughts about loving Robin after Guy passed, lashed out at her. The other man who loved her, her husband, was in danger and all she had offered him for his wound had been a fresh wrapping. She felt sick with herself - how could she try to redeem him when all she did was dangle kindness out to him like a treat and then snatch it away? "Take me to the castle," Marian said, kissing her father farewell and striding out the door.

Allan shook his head; would he ever understand that woman? At least **he** didn't have to be married to her - nice legs or not!

* * *

><p>As she opened the door to Guy's chamber, the first thing Marian noticed was the Sheriff's physician, Blight. Marian was disgusted to see a swarm of black ugly creatures adorning Guy's shoulder - leeches. Blight himself was vigorously mixing a bowl of something - a white foaming liquid that made Marian's innards clench on the spot. Without even a proper greeting Marian demanded, "What is that for?"<p>

Blight looked up from his stirring, "For his stomach, he's babbling about it paining him - this will help him empty its contents and ease the sickness."

"How is he?" Marian asked - trying hard to ignore the sick feeling Blight's words had given her, her dread growing as she looked at Guy's pale face.

"Well, he's fevered, dizzy, confused, and sick to his stomach. Other than that, he's quite well," Blight looked smugly at Marian, basking in the superior knowledge that he alone possessed.

Marian did not appreciate being looked down upon - neither did she approve of his dark treatments, shouldn't he be preventing Guy from being sick? "If that's all that is left, I'll give it to him," Marian said gesturing to Blight's project. She entered the room and sat down at the stool by Guy's bed - why the devil didn't he have chair in here? As Blight passed, she unceremoniously took the mug out of his hands, "I'd like to be alone with my husband."

Blight shook his head, "But I have yet to finish my treatment."

Allan was outside the door observing the entire scene play out, "Come on mate. Let er' have some time with him. Let the two love birds alone for a bit, eh?" He couldn't help but grin as his last comment earned him a glare from Marian's direction.

Blight muttered several things under his breath - none of which she would want to repeat. However, he did leave and Allan gestured after him - silently telling Marian that he was going to follow him. Once alone, Marian sat on the stool - Guy's face was so pale and his lips were moving though Marian couldn't make out what he was trying to say. Why was it always left up to her to fix everything? She couldn't possibly figure out how she felt when she was conveyed upon to sort out other's problems!

Determined to assess what that odious physician was trying to give him, Marian dipped a finger into the foaming white soup. She grimaced as she pulled it out and looked upon it - swallowing hard before she placed it on her tongue. Almost overturning the bowl as she clamped her hand over her mouth, Marian gagged on the few drops that she had tasted; how was Guy supposed to survive drinking the whole thing?

Quickly getting up, Marian scooted the chamber pot out from under Guy's cot and dumped the mug inside. _That is where it belongs! _She jumped and instinctively grabbed hold of the stool when she heard the door handle move. Only when Allan A Dale entered the room did Marian place the stool back on the floor.

Allan's face was stormy and concerned. "That little fellow," Allan leveled his hand to his hip in excessive exaggeration of Blight's stature - an attempt at gallows humor, "He says that it's wolf bane. Nothin' yah can do for him but keep him still and try to break the fever." Allan paused and looked at the pale figure adorning the cot, "How long's he been sick?"

"I don't know," Marian said, wringing a cloth that was taken from a bowl of water, and dragging it over Guy's forehead. "Have you noticed anything?"

"Me? No. You've been a lot closer to 'im than I have - if you catch my meaning."

"Not now, Allan," Marian's teeth were clenched as she eyed Guy's man - and Robin's former comrade. Marian was appreciative of his kindness, when he was not being an arse but she still didn't understand how he could be so fickle - he had been on the better side before, now it only seemed he was on the winning one…

"Not bein' funny, don't you find it odd?" Allan said, shuddering as he poked one of the leeches attached to Guy's skin.

"Find what odd, Allan?" she examined the leeches herself, figuring the best way to rid her husband of his suckers. This method was positively medieval…

Allan sat on the stool that had almost been used to knock him senseless, "Yah know, Guy's crest? It's a wolf - right?"

Marian felt like ignoring him, punishment for his cocky attitude, but knew that if she did he would keep on - she didn't feel like having this conversation right now, though. She nodded her head, hoping that he understood the gravity of the situation at hand and not make any more jests.

"So he's been poisoned by wolf bane - the bane of the wolf. As in Guy's the wolf and -"

"I understand, Allan," but while she acted disinterested, Marian gritted her teeth at the thought that Winchester might have planned this whole thing, minus his own death, in some sick little game. Surely, he couldn't have known that Guy would come for her - of course…

Allan sighed as he stood, "Just keep him calm - that's the best thing. Want me to get that healer that's hold up at Locksley?" With Marian's consent, he left the room and the castle to see if that aggravating woman could attend Sir Guy. How Marian wished that Matilda hadn't fled the shire! Truth be told, if the stories that she had heard were right, she doubted that Matilda would be willing to even look at Guy - let alone treat him.

Marian dropped down by her husband's side when he said her name. She hated to see him like this; contemptible as he sometimes was, Marian didn't think that even God on his most vengeful day could make him die such a death. He was very pale and his wound was a sickly sort of color, she feared the worst - she knew that he would die... Marian was worried that there was no power in heaven or on earth that would ease his passing. If he had indeed been poisoned by Winchester's blade, the wound had had ample time to fester and sully his blood.

Marian smoothed Guy's hair when he took to mumbling her name intermittently - at least she knew that she was as much on his mind, right now, as he was on hers. With heart rendering abruptness, Marian stopped her ministrations - the act of running fingers through someone's hair was meant for lovers, something that she was still adamantly against. Though she couldn't push the previous night from her mind, Marian was determined not to allow her emotions to carry her away again. She would stay aloof to his affection and crass to his caress - how could she allow herself to be intimate with a man whom she did not love? She closed her eyes in pain; she wouldn't have to worry about that soon…

It was about this time that Guy started to move. His motions were sloppy as he strained to sit up and Marian tried to push him back down on the cot, prepared for him to fight back. What Marian wasn't prepared for was for Guy to suddenly retch, he looked on dismayed and pathetic - embarrassed that he should do something as vile as that. That was something that young children did, not grown men. He muttered apologies as though they were part of a prayer - seeking Marian's forgiveness for the mess he had caused, penitent for his inexcusable wrongs.

As she watched Guy, with his quivering lips and discolored face, Marian decided that she needed to remove the leeches - maybe that would help his constitution. She grabbed the first thing that came to her mind - the bedside candle. Carefully she held it above Guy's shoulder, eyeing the black dots that adorned his flesh. She was about to touch one of them with the flame when a noise startled her and she jerked her hand, sending a splash of hot melted wax onto Guy's skin.

As Guy hissed in pain, Marian whirled around to see what, or who, had made the sound. There, before her, stood Robin. "I didn't mean to frighten you, Marian," he said, taking several steps forward and peering down at her husband.

"I was not frightened," Marian argued. She glared at the open window - hadn't this happened earlier today? Though by now it seemed like another life. He was too brazen, coming into the castle like this. If he were to be caught… She didn't dare dwell on the prospects - she was worried enough about Guy. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see the invalid. There's a rumor about Nottingham saying that he's poisoned. Is it true?"

Marian was angered that news had spread so fast - just after she had sent Allan to Locksley… Though she did not take Allan as a man who would sally off and tell this story, Marian needed someone to blame. "It's true. He's bad off," Marian felt her face fall when she saw Robin step toward her. She wanted to go into his comforting embrace, have him tell her that it didn't matter that he would be there and everything would alright. But she held back - Guy was still breathing and as long as he was, she would not give into her feelings.

"Marian, don't you see that this is good news?"

"Guy has been poisoned - I don't see how that is good. Not even for you - you know that the Sheriff will replace him with someone far worse." She felt her throat tighten at the word 'replace' - it made Guy's death seem that much closer, that much more final.

"Not if he would be more like Joderic - he tried to help the people!"

Marian cringed at the surrounding circumstances involving Joderic and Joe Lacey's deaths. "You don't know that, they could be the devil in disguise." Was she referring to the lesson she learned about Lacey? She did not know.

Robin shook his head, "Marian, if Gisborne dies you're free. We - we can be together."

"The healer is coming," Marian said - she wished that she could feel as confident as she sounded, "He will not die."

Robin laid a hand over hers, "You don't have to do this. You can let him die and no one would blame you - I wouldn't blame you."

Marian's 'No' choked in her throat when she heard his words.

"You can't be expected to stay with someone you don't love! Please, Marian - listen to reason."

"No. I can't let him die." Marian stopped and swallowed, "He doesn't deserve to die." What surprised Marian was the conviction that she heard in her own voice as she said those fatal words. She looked away at Robin's darkened expression - she couldn't imagine how he was feeling, being rejected twice by her in one day.

With not another word, Robin turned back to the window, disconsolate. Marian couldn't let him leave without another word - couldn't leave the blackness between them. She knew Robin thought she hated him - to choose his enemy over him and discard his feelings was more than enough evidence. She had to say something, she wouldn't burn the only bridge that she had left, "Robin, I care for you."

Robin turned around to look at her; his face was downcast. How badly he wanted tell her that she didn't, that she never had, that he was better without her distracting him. He didn't. Robin only forced a sad smile and said, "Remember Marian, if you ever need me, I'll protect you." With that, he was gone again, out the window like a shadow - as fictitious as air, and Marian was left to tend to her husband. _**Her**__ husband._

* * *

><p>Marian's patience had worn thin by the time Allan arrived with the healer. She had abandoned the act of burning the leeches and had managed to scrape them off with the blade of Guy's curved dagger, which she had discovered on his person. When she saw Allan enter the room, she was furious.<p>

"Where were you?" She approached quickly and stopped as soon when she saw a large overlapping cloak was hiding the healer.

"Sorry!" Allan said the sarcasm evident in his voice, pointing down the hall, "But that short little mite acts his size - like a bawling kid. Threw a tantrum when I brought 'er. Crying, 'No, not again!' I had to sneak her in through the kitchens, by God."

The herbalist approached, discarding the cloth behind her, flipping her hand for Marian to pick it up. She took a quick look at Guy, studying him intently. "Wolf bane, huh?" she asked Allan.

Allan nodded, "That's what I said."

She shook her finger in Guy's face, "Well there's only one thing that will save him. Poison."

Allan blinked at her in surprise, "I don't think you understand - he's already been poisoned, that's what we're trying to fix."

Allan jerked away as he was swatted at. The healer lifted Guy's eyelids and let them snap shut, "I know that. I need you to get something - the only thing that will save him." She pointed at Allan and the latter backed up.

"Yeah, you said that already. I'll get whatever you need. What is it?"

Allan almost ran out of the room when she told him that she needed a mandrake. "I'm not going after one of those! I'm not going to kill myself!" The passion in his voice, as well as the fear, was enough to make anyone re-assess their command - but not this woman, this _healer_.

She shrugged her shoulders, "Then I can't do anything more for him." She turned and started to walk away.

Marian glared at Allan, "Do as she says."

Allan didn't know if he should be more afraid of what the mandrakes would do to him or the growling Marian. "Easy for you to say," he muttered, "You're not the one riskin' your neck." He frowned at the person who held Guy's life in their hands, why didn't they bloody well go and get the possessed refuse themselves? "Where do I find them?" he sighed, resigned to his fate. But where was he supposed to get a white dog… At this hour?

* * *

><p>Allan shuddered as he crept through the woods. He was certain that this area was darker than the rest. How in the name of God - he changed that, for God had nothing to do with this - how in the devil was he to find a gallows tree?<p>

He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a noise - though that could possibly have stemmed the pounding in his aching head. After looking around, Allan continued on his quest, he was as anxious as he had ever been. He was almost positive that spooks roamed and slithered about this dark nook of the forest… It didn't take long for him to spot the telltale purple flowers that marked the mandrake. Allan gulped, he really longed for a dog to take his place, to pull out the root and die in his stead. Allan wished that didn't sound so callous but that was how the gathering of mandrakes took place. For when the demons inhabiting the root screamed, anyone who heard their cry would die - that meant him…

Allan stood over the plant, he looked to the heavens, "God, I know that I bothered yah just a couple of days ago but if you can hear me, I'm beggen you - please don't hold this against me." He knelt down next to the mandrake and held back another swallow. Looking to the sky again Allan continued, "An' when I die, here, will yah let Giz know that I gave my life for his? I'd really 'priciate it - let 'em all know I did somethin' good before I croaked…"

Heaving a sigh Allan reached down and grasped the plant. He paused for a moment, taking time for a last look around earth. It was a disgruntling thought to know that he was going to die by a gallows tree - where wretches had dangled - surely, despite all his past actions, he deserved better than this sort of demise? He tried to push the thoughts away, best not to dwell too much on the inevitable. With a strong tug, Allan yanked the mandrake out of the dirt.

He cringed, stumbling backwards from the force of the pull and the knowledge that he was about to expire. Allan opened his eyes when nothing happened. He hadn't fallen over dead, choked upon his own blood, or foamed at the mouth… Strange… As a matter of fact, Allan hadn't heard anything…

He could feel the sweat trickle down his brow and he swiped at it. He was alive and he had the mandrake. Thanks be to God - He had heard him!

* * *

><p>Allan proclaimed to Marian and the healer, who Allan was suspecting to be of a slightly more dubious nature, that God had plugged his ears to prevent him from hearing the mandrake scream - and that, mates, was the only reason that he was alive.<p>

He watched as some of the root was crushed and dumped, unceremoniously, down Guy's throat. "You think that's wise?" he asked Marian.

"She knows what she's doing," Marian said, but her eyes gave way to a flicker of worry as she looked on.

The healer came back and, brushing off her hands, said, "This will do quite nicely. Yes, indeed."

Marian expressed her thanks, still glancing worriedly at Guy. "Would you escort her back to Locksley, Allan? I don't wish to leave my father alone for long."

Allan nodded and tossed the cloak up and over the healer's head - more to hide her from his sight than anything. Why, hadn't he almost become devil's fodder on account of her? He was startled to hear her hiss from under the thick cloth and Allan wondered if he would live through this next trip…

It was not long before Marian was running the wet cloth back over Guy's brow. As she deftly moved her hands, she was startled when Guy latched onto her wrist with a strength that frightened her.

Guy had his eyes open and was trying to look upon her. He blinked, attempting to focus. "Please," Guy said, the word almost garbled, "Please stand - stand - still."

Though his vision seemed off, his sentence was coherent unlike his mutterings earlier - the mandrake must be working! Marian came closer and smoothed his hair, "I'm here. What do you need?"

He gave a hollow choked laugh, "Need? You were the only thing I needed. And now - now - I won't even have a chance," he coughed and chuckled again, "But maybe I got fortunate." His smile was lecherous. He was delirious…

It frightened Marian that he should get this way so quickly - no warning, no sign - just delirium. She quickly placed a hand on his head as he attempted to move and kiss her arm. Marian tried to recall if he was this warm last night. Her cheeks reddened as she recalled the answer to that query. "How might you be fortunate?" she asked, trying to avoid the improper gleam in his eyes. It made her skin crawl; it was the same look Winchester had given her…

Guy let her arm go and placed his hand, roughly and disjointedly, on her abdomen, "By making an heir. A child to carry the Gisborne name. Our child - not Winchester's - ours!" He looked out of breath as he shouted the dead's name, Guy gulped for air.

Marian placed a hand over his mouth at his yell. Her command was harsh when she spoke next, "Shh, keep your voice down." She looked to the heavens for guidance when Guy looked hurt at her words.

"Don't you want a babe? Every woman wants a child," his face was expectant and when he didn't get the 'yes' he was desiring he continued to yell, "That's why I gave you the damn horse! - to show you that I could father good children!" He stopped abruptly, furrowing his brow, causing dark lines to form on his forehead and his eyes to narrow in confusion, "No. Wait, that's not it…"

Despite the fact that Marian was furious with his temper, his puzzled expression amused her. He shook his head and winced at the action, "It'll come to me - don't worry." He took his hand away from her and pushed himself up to a sitting position on the bed, "I have to get up. The Sheriff, he's bloody pissed as it is - oh sorry Marian." He sighed at his own inappropriate language; Marian bit her tongue and covered her mouth - yet she was angered with herself; this was in no way amusing, Guy's life was in danger. She couldn't figure why he was behaving this way… "I need to gather some taxes - that'll please him," Guy said, struggling to untangle the sheets about his legs and roll out of bed.

Gently, Marian pushed on his good shoulder, sending him back down to the bed, "You need to stay there until I-" She was cut off when he pulled her closer and tried to kiss her. Marian drew backwards from him - he needed to stop.

"Marian?" Guy said, his voice almost a whine. The peevish expression he bore was enough to make Marian sigh. Again there was that sting of feeling - hadn't she just resolved to treat him better? She hated to think that he would die believing that she thought ill of him - be it death from the gallows or this sudden sickness. Guy stared at her, before brushing her cheek with his hand, "But it doesn't matter now. I won't live till tomorrow…"

His voice, so sure and sad, made Marian feel sick. "You won't die," but she heard in her own tone that she couldn't convince an addlepated jester, herself or Guy of this matter. Therefore, she changed her wording - something a little more influential, "You can not die. You owe me."

He guffawed, "Owe you? What? I'm not the one who played tricks on your heart, let you believe lies, and pretends to sit at your deathbed only waiting for your last breath to catch." He blinked, befuddled, "I apologize; I hadn't meant to say that…"

Marian was too angry to slap him and too hurt to care. He wasn't the master of his words right now but it upset her to know he thought that. The only thing that brought her out of her reverie was the fact that Guy sighed and said, his voice more considerate, "What do I owe you?"

She made eye contact, hers were blazing, hot and fierce, "You owe me the protection of your name. You changed my life, now you'll make good on what your vows entail." It was easier to be angry with him, the worry was pushed back and resentment took its place.

"**I** changed your life!" Guy spat the words. "If you had told me the truth, I wouldn't have married you!"

"We made our choices, Guy. We both have to accept them."

He sighed again, "I accepted my choice but you never accepted me…"

Hands on her hips Marian stared down at him, her expression softening, "What?"

"I said you never accepted me!"

Marian was startled when she saw his chest heaving, she was supposed to be keeping him calm - not fighting with him. "What do you mean?"

"You don't love me - you can't. You're afraid if you do, you'll get hurt - again. I've accepted that." Guy looked into Marian's wide distressed eyes, "Don't think I didn't know." He turned his head away, "You can leave. You don't need to stay."

"I'm not going anywhere." She watched as Guy forced a smile, her own chest felt tight and constricted when she thought of all that he knew. She had a gnawing knowledge that Guy wasn't quite as dull-witted as she had taken him for. Had he known the entire time that she was only toying with him? Or were his words spoken from the sickness that he was facing? Unproven assumptions?

Marian avoided the thought and settled down on the stool next to the bed, content to remain there should she be needed. She admired her husband's loyalty, faulty as it was, and decided that she would show him that two could play at that game. After a few more trifling incidents - with Marian coming out victorious - he finally succumbed to sleep and Marian felt her eyes grow heavy while Guy rested. She could only pray that he wasn't as entertaining, when he woke, as he was earlier…

* * *

><p><em>AN I am so very __**very**__**very**__ sorry for the long wait! I have been exceedingly busy and have hardly had any time. However, this is the longest chapter that I have written so far, so hopefully that makes up for it… I hope… _

_I pray that everyone (especially Marian and Robin *gulp*) was in character… Remember, Marian **is** married to Guy and is trying to be somewhat nice..._

_I would like to give a big thanks to Traveller for the idea of the wolf bane symbolism! **THANKS**! :D _

_And a big thanks to the anonymous reviewers! ;)_

_Now, I know that I took a few liberties with the wolf bane - he would have gotten sick sooner in reality. But I can't help it - it had to be done. As far as why Guy suddenly acted goofy - the mandrake. That funny little plant is a hallucinogen and it is also responsible for his sudden sleep - but it really is part of the family of poisonous plants that can cure Guy (yep, Little John was right). _

_Let us hope, while Guy is in lullaby land, that he is able to count a few hundred sheep and get well rested by the time he has to wake up and deal with the Sheriff and Sir Spencer - of course. Oh, and let us not forget a rather worried and angry Marian. Guy will be out for a bit - enough time for Marian to really think about and take a good look at the man that she married. _

_Upon rereading some of this chapter, I had to wonder who spiked my iced coffee… Hopefully that is fixed now…_

_Just a warning - the whole story will not take place within just a couple of weeks. I will eventually be skipping ahead some to allow more room for the plot. Right now, we are just trying to keep Guy and Marian from killing each other and seeking an annulment afterwards…_


	11. The Last Man

_The Last Man _

He didn't think that it was possible to feel any lower. His head touched his breast, his feet were dragging and his heart felt dead. He wondered about this; one moment he was storming off looking for a vent to his fury and hurt, the next he felt as though he couldn't move - his feet fixated to the earth. Robin wished that he were dead. If he had died while trying to save Marian, her marriage would have been easier for him to bear. But now, now that she had willingly stayed with Gisborne, Robin felt as if his entire life had been for naught.

Was this to be his punishment? Could one careless childhood act have wrought so much pain? Surely, God was punishing him for firing that arrow, letting Guy take the blame, declaring to the village that that damned leper was in the manor. There could be no other explanation…

"Well there you are! Finally - I've been worried sick about you!" came an overly cheery voice. Robin realized that he had stumbled into camp - where people could see his pain, would give him their sympathies. He didn't want that - he wanted to be alone. He couldn't take anymore - Marian had killed the last of his self-control.

Much spoke again, "You're barely on your feet and you go running off to Nottingham - twice! We would have come after you this last time but you were gone well before we knew. Don't you have a lick of sense?"

Robin tried to curb his tongue but the words spilled off regardless, "Unlike you, Much, I do." Why he said that only he knew and yet he did not care, not even when the rest of his men looked at him, eyes filled with uncertainty and anger.

Much put up a brave front, he was not a lesser man, "Well we should all be happy that Marian is back in the shire. That should make a rescue more eas-"

"She does not wish to be rescued!" Robin's lip curled into a snarl at the image of Gisborne only he could see.

Much's dampened 'Oh' could hardly be heard above the silence. Much didn't know what to say. He did know that no matter what he said, Robin would still be cross. "Surely not," he struggled to think of what to say, "She - she loves you."

"Loved."

"Come and - uh -sit down and have something to eat. You haven't eaten a real meal in days - maybe that will clear your head. Yes, that's it, and then things will look up."

"I don't want your food or your company," Robin said, turning away, walking back to the thick wooded expanse.

Much gulped, "You'll regret that when it comes supper time."

Robin laughed, "No. I won't. I told you, I don't want your company." He continued walking, startled when no one called after him or followed him. Robin sighed and looked back at Much who was suddenly chopping vegetables with such a fury that he pitied them. Why had he lashed out at him?

Much was the closest thing to a brother that he had ever known. _We always hurt the ones we love -_ Malcolm's voice rang in his ears. He had told Robin that after his mother had died in childbirth. Robin wanted to call out to Much, to fix what he had broken yet again, but he didn't. Although Much's head was down, Robin could see his lips moving - he desperately hoped that he was talking to himself and that they weren't quivering.

Robin crept deeper into the woods - away from his friends, trying to escape what troubled him. But how can one escape one's own heart? When his own love cast him aside? Hurt for a hurt - he abandoned her and she was now taking her revenge. Her retaliation, unlike his five-year absence during the crusades, was _almost_ undoable. Marriage could only be broken by death…

* * *

><p>It wasn't long before Much clattered his long thick spoon into the pot. His hands were on his hips in an instant, "Someone should go after him."<p>

He was met with stares from the rest of his comrades. "Well, isn't anyone worried about him?"

"Let him be," was Little John's stoic reply.

Much huffed in annoyance, Robin could be doing something stupid and get himself killed. He needed help - he needed him… "If no one else has a mind to, then I'll go." Still no one made a move and Much stalked off. He glanced over his shoulder one last time to see if anyone cared enough to accompany him, "Well! At least I care!"

* * *

><p>This was what needed to be done. Sitting around reading ledger after ledger and aggravating the peasants wasn't going to catch the great outlaw. Action would. Spencer would prove that he was a man of action; capable of accomplishing something in one day that Gisborne hadn't been able to handle in over a year. He would catch Robin Hood and the Sheriff would be in his pocket. Pliable, moldable, and then - then Sir Spencer would have his denied rights and revenge on those who deprived him…<p>

The Sheriff's guards followed him doggedly - obedient and ready to kill at his command. The feeling of power nearly overwhelmed him. Wouldn't this be a surprise to Vaisey - who had no idea of his leaving the castle; the capture of Hood and the cementation of his newfound hand - soon to be master at arms. Spencer smiled to himself; this was going to be a good day.

* * *

><p>Much traipsed through the forest, cursing his fate. Why was he the only one to go after Robin? Robin, who didn't want his help, but so desperately needed it - well in his opinion at least… He couldn't just leave his master to face the world's apathy and caprice - one moment loving him and the next smacking him down. Robin needed to know that people cared and, if Marian had done what he had claimed, he would surely be cut to the quick. Much would have to comfort him; he couldn't leave Robin to suffer alone. He just couldn't…<p>

It wasn't that Much expected a different reaction from Robin this time - oh no, he had come to anticipate Robin's flaring temper - but he knew that this time, like all the others, Robin would eventually appreciate his efforts. Much just had to find him and he visibly shuddered when he recalled to mind how he found him last - lying on that rocky surface with his head gashed open. Much bit back a gulp and continued on his search with more determination and vigor than before.

He tore though an especially thick section of undergrowth and that was when he saw them - riders in Sherwood. Unfortunately, they saw him too… Nine men, clothed in armor and the Sheriff's colors, turned on him. Much did the only thing that he could do - he ran. Ducking, diving, scrambling; throwing himself under a thicket and sliding out the other side, dropping to his stomach and lying as still as he could - surrounded by vegetation.

His breathing was ragged; he gulped trying hard to regain his faltering breath. His chest burned hot and hard, it felt like it was filled with gravel, grinding and churning its way through his body. Much watched as the guards filed past - seven, eight, nine… There had been nine of them - their helmets easy to spot over the bushes. He waited till the soft thuds of their hoof beats in the supple dirt died down, and then Much crawled out from his hiding place.

He looked in the direction of the horses retreating backsides, smiling to himself - he had outfoxed them! Giving a triumphant nod of his head Much started to turn around and continue his pursuit of Robin. However, one word stilled him in his tracks. One word sent a chill down his spine piercing the very depths of his soul…

"Gotcha!"

Much felt his heart ice over as a hand gripped his shoulder; spinning him around. He was face to face with his captor - a stranger - the last man. Much could never remember the last man; no matter how many times Robin had painstakingly tried to drill that lesson into his head. Now here he was, alone and captured. No one knew exactly where he was and no one would come looking for him for a good while - he was done for. The only chance he had was to get away.

Spencer was hardly startled when Much relaxed for a moment and then tried to pull away with all his might. Spencer was ready and deftly drove his small dagger into Much's side.

Much felt his knees buckle as the blade pulled out of his flesh. He gasp; his breath sticking in his chest. Was he to die out here? Did he not even have a chance of being rescued? His head drooped; he supposed that he deserved it - punishment for overlooking a basic rule.

The wound wasn't as clean as Spencer would have liked. He had been careless and had managed to hit a rib bone in the stabbing process - his father would have been ashamed. The lesion was superficial. The only thing to be said was that this outlaw would still be alive when he took him before the Sheriff. Mayhap this would be even better then what he had planned - this might get Hood to come to them…

Pulling Much back up on his shaky legs, Spencer re-sheathed his dagger. "We're going to pay a little visit to the Sheriff. You might not be very pleased to see him but he'll be thrilled to see you. You ought to bring that little bird out of hiding."

Much wished that this man would kill him now. Kill him and be done with it. He didn't want Robin to endanger himself only to rescue one as lowly as he - especially since he might die anyways. Much would rather die than put Robin and the others in peril!

* * *

><p>Allan walked briskly, more to keep his thoughts focused on his pace than anything else. He had skirted around town; choosing to creep through the edges of Sherwood instead. He knew that he was far from the camp and shouldn't expect any unpleasant occurrences with Robin or his former mates. However, Allan A Dale was beginning to despise the town and villages; the stolen glances and whispered expressions of dislike were almost too much for him to bear.<p>

It was then that he saw a troop of the Sheriff's guards. Instinct, forced into his head by necessity, told him to run. Then the recollection that he was "Sir Guy's Man" sprung forth - there was no need for him to run. He didn't tempt fate though, and nimbly sidestepped them. The guards were waiting; huddled in a bunch - jumping at every woodland animal that snapped a twig. Allan chuckled silently to himself - if he had a mind to, he could have a great amount of fun with these frightened blokes.

He was tempted, oh so tempted, but when he heard a muffled gasp of pain, Allan stood still to listen better. Hearing Sir Spencer's voice was the only confirmation that he needed - this was bad… Instinct kicked in again from a time when it was only him - no one else mattered, you saved yourself and that was that. Self preservation he called it. He pushed it back and peered in the direction that the sound came from. Much!

Another instinct that he couldn't name took control and Allan stalked out of his hiding place without a thought for himself or a plan. Spencer was too absorbed in his prisoner to pay him any mind, so when Allan grabbed the knight's shoulder and spun him around - Spencer didn't know what to think.

Allan was so quick that Spencer didn't have the sense to keep hold of Much's arm. Much stumbled backwards when that appendage was freed. Allan had both of Spencer's shoulders in a tight grasp, "Wha' are you doin?'" Allan said giving him a shake - that was sure to haunt him later… "Yah' shouldn't be out bullying the peasants! We need ta be hunting for those filthy outlaws!" He managed to look beyond Spencer's disheveled form and gesture with his eyes that Much should go.

Despite his wound, Much managed to stagger upwards and tear through the forest. His blood pumped wildly as his side burned and crimson seeped between the fingers tightly clamped over the wound. Much ran blindly, his only thought was to escape and get away as quickly as possible. If only he could find Robin!

Allan's heart beat thickly in his breast as Spencer regained his senses, shoving Allan away and turning abruptly to see that his prisoner had escaped. Gulping Allan said, as natural as possible, "Come on now, we better be getting back to 'splain this to the Sheriff afore-" Allan was cut off by a pair of hands wrapping themselves around his neck, choking the life out of him.

Spencer bared his teeth, lowering his face inches from Allan's ear, and said, "I could kill you, right now, right here, and no one would ever know. Silently. Swiftly. Suddenly. But I won't, oh no -I won't. Just wait you piece of shit, I'm going to have fun with you. You'll wish that you had never seen your outlaw friend."

Allan managed to squeak out his next words, "That was an outlaw?" Even though his vision was growing dim and his ears felt like they would pop, he was still trying to play his game. He coughed and gasp for the air that was being denied him, "Musta been Much. No on' remembers 'im - not even me. Sorry 'bout that."

Spencer thrust Allan away from him, as if he were disgusted to touch him. He ran his hands through his shoulder length brown hair and kicked at Allan who was catching his breath on the ground - though the latter managed to roll away from the oncoming boot.

Jumping up, Allan moved as far away from Spencer as he could. So this was the price one paid for loyalty… Moreover, being as how he was endeavoring to serve two masters, he was going to be shelling out his life for payment twice as fast if he wasn't careful… He could only hope that Much would tell Robin of his heroics and earn him a good mark in that man's book of betrayals…

"Just wait till we get back to the Sheriff!" Spencer's expression was deadly and Allan knew this could not bode well…

* * *

><p>Much thought his heart was going to burst. He scrambled as fast as he could, tripping over foliage and his own feet. Trying to avoid the guards. Trying to find Robin… He needed to warn him - protect him from a terrible fate. Alack! It didn't take long for the pain and loss of blood to stop Much's attempts.<p>

He leaned up against a tree to catch his breath; slowly sliding to the bottom. He was gasping for air so loudly that he was certain that the Sheriff's men could hear him - wherever they were… Much jumped when he saw someone approach. Only when he realized that he knew the person did he calm and say a prayer of thanks. "Master Robin," he said, laying a hand over his heart. "I - I forgot."

In an instant, Robin was on his knees by Much, "What happened?" All his earlier anger and disdain washed away as he saw Much's pale figure leaning there. He looked intently into Much's face; catching the glistening of pain that flashed through his eyes. Robin felt his chest tighten to see him hurt. Glancing down, he noticed where Much had his hand clutched and there was blood trickling between his fingers.

"I'm sorry," Much said again, wincing as he spoke.

Gently, Robin reached down and pulled the bloody hand away from the wound. He grimaced and slowly touched the cut, "Oh, Much. What happened?"

"I forgot - the - the last man," Much was pausing as the struggle to breath without hurting confronted him.

Robin rested a hand on Much's forehead, "Who did this?"

"I - I don't know. I never saw - him before," he looked woeful and dejected. "I forgot - it's - it's my fault."

"No. No, Much - it's not your fault." Something panged him as he spoke - it wasn't Much's fault. Though he hadn't dared tell him, Robin knew why he had been thrown from his horse. Why he hadn't been able to save Marian. His saddle had been loose - the very saddle that Much had put on his horse. And though Robin hadn't had the heart to blame Much aloud he blamed him in his heart. But now, that feeling of animosity was gone and something _old_ took it's place - friendship, camaraderie, brotherhood. Robin stood up and checked to be sure that they were alone. "Can you stand?"

Much nodded and struggled to get up. Robin grabbed him and helped him stagger to his feet. Putting most of Much's weight on his shoulders, Robin slowly began to walk in the direction of camp. Though his head still pained him on occasion, he wasn't about to leave his comrade. "I'll find who did this Much, I swear I will." He looked at his friend - his brother - and gave a halfhearted smile, "Let's have Djaq take a look at you first."

* * *

><p>Allan felt the walls closing in on him. This was it - once the Sheriff heard that he had thwarted an attempt to capture one of the outlaws and lure Robin Hood into their clutches, he would be twiddling his thumbs and singing songs in heaven. Allan had never particularly liked the thought of that place - the harp wasn't his instrument of choice... It wasn't only what getting there entailed but the thoughts of being there repulsed him… Besides, if he was in God's likeness then wouldn't the Lord himself have a sense of humor? That couldn't bode well for Allan - God might decide to play some sick joke on him…<p>

Spencer shoved Allan so hard that he fell to his knees before Vaisey, practically kissing his painted toes. Spencer pointed at Allan - as if the Sheriff were too blind and dumb to notice him, "This rat upset my plan to catch Hood!"

Looking down his nose at the prostrate form of A Dale, Vaisey said, "And how, dear boy, did he manage that?"

Spencer felt his mouth go dry at the Sheriff's _endearment_ - his heart stopped beating until the threat of suffocation moved it forwards - maybe if he just pretended that he hadn't heard, it would go away… The words stumbled out of his mouth, "Your men and I had one of the outlaws! And he-" Spencer pointed viciously at Allan - "let him escape!"

Allan slowly stood up and placed his hands out in front of him. He had been quickly thinking about what to say in his defense - finally settling on saying that he didn't recognize Much and he thought that Spencer was harassing a peasant. He couldn't stifle a smirk - that blatant lie wasn't going to get him into the pearly gates anytime soon. Allan realized that his explanation wasn't going to be needed…

"You took who with you?" Vaisey queried, strumming his fingers on his forearm.

"Your guards - my Lord."

"Ah, I see. Now, with Gisborne babbling, and you bouncing out into the woods with _my_ men bumbling along behind you - who was supposed to be protecting me?"

"My Lord, I-"

"Don't give me any piffle! You took _my_ guards away from _my_ castle to take a little walk in the woods - you imbecile!"

Quietly, Allan slunk away while Vaisey continued his tirade against Spencer. It appeared that he wasn't going to have to use his excuse after all. He headed to Guy's chamber to see how the perpetual lovers quarrel was going…

* * *

><p><em>AN This is a short chapter… *hangs head* Sorry about that... I do hope, as usual, that everyone was themselves, that Allan made sense, and Robin showed his care and consideration. _

_This was a chapter mostly to show Allan getting on the bad side of Spencer (who is he anyway? Any guesses?), Allan displaying some abstract loyalty to his former gang, and a bit of Robin and Much friendship. Poor Guy, he was only mentioned (what twice?) in this chapter - he must feel very unloved… Well at least he is still counting sheep. :p Oh, and we finally find out why Robin fell off his horse! Poor Much... :(_

_There will be a new chapter next month - I'll try to stick to those intervals. _

_Thank you all for following and reading this story. I truly appreciate it. :D _


	12. Propinquity

_Propinquity _

Marian felt a trickle of fear creep into her heart when she heard footfalls outside the large wooden door. It was not for herself that she feared, Marian could easily defend herself against any oncoming attack - Guy was helpless. He still slept when Allan pounced into the room and slammed the door behind him. Though Allan looked flushed and unnerved, he couldn't hide the satisfied smirk from playing across his lips.

Marian was not amused, "What took you so long?" As Allan opened his mouth to respond, she cut him off, "Don't even bother. You probably paid a visit to the tavern."

The grin faded and he directed a hurt look toward her but Allan was not about to take this accusation without a fight. "Gees, Marian. What do ya think I do all day? Chase whores? You know all the riffraff and scum that do that? Do I look that addled? Why a man could get 'imself _**the burning **_by doing that. That could cause a man's - his - uh - um - well - his uh - 'personality stick' to fall off…"

Marian blinked back at him, "Personality stick? Is that what you call it?"

Allan scratched the back of his neck, muttering, "No. _**I**_ call it my co-." He stopped what he was in the middle of saying - the expression on Marian's face told him all that he needed to know. She could hear him… He chided himself - had not his mother taught him better than that? Using such language before a woman - even if it was only Marian - had been an unspeakable sin in her eyes.

Marian overheard the dampened grumbles and gave him a glare but she was unable to forestall the blush that invaded her cheeks at the mention of his unmentionables. However, she was pleased to note that there was evidence of a crimson splash on his face as well.

Allan coughed to cover up his ill spoken blunder, "I was taken' back that charlatan, you got to take a look at Giz."

"She is not a charlatan," Marian said, gently dabbing at Guy's sweat streaked face. Though he was sleeping, his fever hadn't broken yet.

"Oh, yeah? Well that _charlatan,_" Allan over emphasized the word; he could almost see Marian prickle. "She was talkin' about putting honey - honey mind you - on his wound if it doesn't start healing soon." He pointed to Guy, "Don't be surprised if he starts croaking like a toad!" Allan turned and left, not even bothering to take a better look at Gisborne. If Marian wanted to fight with him he was going to do the only thing in his power - leave. No one, not even the Saints in all their holy glory, could argue and win against Marian. Allan knew he was in no way, shape, or form a Saint and therefore didn't stand a chance.

* * *

><p>Marian's upper lip twisted slightly at Allan's back but she didn't say anything more. Despite rebuffing Allan's claims that the healer was more unearthly than not - Marian was beginning to agree with his assumptions. Not that she would ever admit that to him - it didn't take much for her to see, in her mind's eye, the smug expression that would be cast across his face if she did.<p>

Pushing Allan out of her thoughts, Marian looked at Guy - he was much calmer now and was not as physical as he had been. His eerie slumber unnerved her and she caught herself wishing that he would wake. Finally, she made her mind up - as she had for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day. She would show Guy loyalty and stick to him; she would show him affection. She would try harder to show her husband that she cared - though the earth might burn and wither before she was able to.

Marian _had_ cared for him; years had passed since she had felt that initial spark of affection, pity, and compassion - but never love. Nevertheless, as the years carried on, that spark had flamed into a stirring that slowly ate away at her countenance. Marian hated admitting that. Her impression of loyalty was that the first - idea, assumption, object - was to be kept, placed on a pedestal - Robin was her first love. Wiping Guy's brow again, Marian tried to rationalize her affection for her husband - wifely affection… The stirring had cracked her it seemed and now she could only give in. She had admitted it - though she feared it to be far too late…

Guy thrashed his head about suddenly and Marian received a sickening jolt that he was experiencing spasms of pain before he drew his final breath. Upon closer inspection, she saw that Guy was in the throws of a nightmare - brought on by the poison or the _cure,_ she did not know. She smoothed his damp hair back from where it had fallen into his eyes and tried to soothe him. He calmed, gasping her name as he did so; breathing harshly and quickly, his face gripped by pain.

There was a brisk knock at the door and then it swung open before she could respond. "Hope you don't mind, I let myself in," the Sheriff entered on a hop, closely followed by a man she had never seen before.

The other man had his head lowered as if he was a wolf on the prowl, or maybe like a dog recently kicked in the ribs… His eyes, though downward, shifted about the room and inevitably fell upon Sir Guy. Marian could feel their coldness and ill will even though she could not see their harshness.

"Ah, Maid Marian - oops clumsy me, your not a _maid_ any longer, are you? No, of course not." He smiled at her but the Sheriff was never known for his benevolence - the smile was evil and caused Marian's to skin crawl. Vaisey turned to the other man, "You remember us speaking of Marian - Sir Guy's _blushing_ new bride?" He gestured to the young man, "This is Sir Spencer - he's stayed on to assist in the capture of Hood. Though I must say that his first attempt was less than admirable…"

Marian watched as Spencer sunk deeper into himself. His teeth bared into a snarl - directed at Guy, Vaisey, or both - Marian couldn't tell; mayhap not even he could. What Marian did know was that his presence was less then advantageous.

The Sheriff clapped his hands together once, letting the vibrations echo over the sparse room before continuing, "Now, how's the invalid?"

Marian felt the creeping feeling of protection slip over her - Guy looked so vulnerable… "He is still recovering, Sheriff." She couldn't stand to address him as 'my Lord' - not with those menacing eyes outright in their mocking of her.

Vaisey circled Guy's sleeping form, somewhat like a vulture, "It's odd isn't it?" Marian assumed that he was talking to Spencer but when he made eye contact with her - those eyes jumping over her and assaulting her with their gleam - she knew that wasn't the case. "It's odd that Gisborne married you. I never felt that you were a proper influence on him. Always pushing him to do good, never letting him unleash his inner - _me_. No matter what I did to keep his mind on his work and away from you, he still defied me."

Marian shut her eyes and tried to keep her emotions under control. There were so many things that she wanted to say to this sick, conniving man but she bit her tongue. She needed to stay in control for Guy. It did please her to hear that his feelings for her were greater than his need to obey the Sheriff.

"What's odder still," Vaisey said, stopping to examine Guy's wound. "Is that he married you - though you failed to keep your knees shut from Winchester."

Marian felt her shoulder muscles stiffen and grow tight at the Sheriff's words. When she heard Spencer cough to cover his laughter and saw Vaisey smiling at her again, she wished that she could knock them both senseless. It would take but a moment, one swift moment. However, for her own sake and Guy's, she couldn't… The repercussions of her actions would last much longer than her initial self-justification. If Vaisey found out that she was the Night Watchman he would hang her and possibly Guy - if he ever woke that was.

"If he was so desperate to give his _essence_ to a noble woman, I would have preferred him to sniff around one who's - ah - _sacred grounds_ hadn't been dug in already."

The Sheriff tugged one of Guy's eyelids open while the latter mumbled something incoherently. Marian prayed that he would not fall back into his fevered musings while the Sheriff was there. Fortuitously, Vaisey took his leave, flipping a careless hand in his wake, "Inform me as soon as he wakes - I want to have a word with him."

Gently, Marian shut the door behind them; only to clench her fists so tight she was sure they would crack and bleed. She thought of so many revolting, ungodly names that she could call that man and she chose the best one of them. Just as she was saying it, where she thought only the mice in the walls could overhear her blasphemy, Allan suddenly appeared in the doorway - jaw hanging open.

The apparition made a soft strangled noise to himself and avoided meeting her eyes - best let her alone while she fumed. Even if Vaisey didn't know what deadliness Marian possessed, _**he**_ did and was not about to cross her… At least not this time.

"I thought you left?" Marian asked, sitting back down at her post beside Guy. If she wasn't so angry she might have blushed at Allan's unexpected entry, but she felt as if she had the devil inside her and didn't care if he heard her swear or not. Neither did she care how he felt about it.

Allan sat down on the desk, using his hands to support his weight, "I did but that Spencer bloke is a bit uppity 'bout now and I didn't want ta run into him again."

She wondered privately what Allan had done to cross that man already - that might have been the reason for the snickering clod's odd behavior.

Watching Allan pick and poke around the room, amused Marian while she sat and scrutinized Guy's breathing. Allan wasn't use to being in a place that didn't have leaves strewn about, she figured. She stifled a yawn as the day's toll finally took hold of her. The subdued fretting for both her Father, her husband, and Robin was seeping through her normally thick countenance. It wasn't long before Marian felt her own eyes grow heavy as she looked at Guy and soon she wasn't watching him anymore but joining him in slumber.

* * *

><p>Marian felt a shiver of sensation run down her back as she was waking up. The room was black and there was no indication that Allan was around anymore. She felt the shiver again and looked in the direction of the bed; Guy was awake gently stroking her cheek.<p>

She jerked into a sitting position, hating to be caught sleeping instead of tending to him. She hated to need rest. "Guy - how do you feel?"

He gave a weak smile, "Better than a dead wolf's head." His eyes locked on Marian's and she knew that the wording was a test - one to see if she reacted.

Poisoned and hurt he was still the same Guy - testing her loyalty to him. It angered Marian that he didn't trust her but she realized ruefully that she hadn't given him any reason to. Making no response to his statement, other than pressing a mug of water to his dry lips, Marian said, "Here drink this."

Guy gulped thirstily and she had to pull the mug away from him, lest he choke. He moved his wounded arm to wipe the wetness from his mouth and winced. "What happened?" he said, eyeing the throbbing appendage disdainfully.

"You were poisoned by Winchester's knife. You're just barely alive."

"So it seems," Guy said, giving a muted groan as the pain in his head made its presence known. He rubbed his eyes and laid his head back against the straw pillow.

Marian could feel herself shrinking back from any kindness on her part - it could wait till later. She only then callously reminded herself that he almost didn't have a 'later.' She should not put off the inevitable, "How is your shoulder?"

"It is a wound - it hurts the way most wounds do," he replied, his words were meant to distance her from him. That was what she appeared to want after all…

Marian gritted her teeth together and brusquely stood up, intending to leave him to his own devices. If he couldn't be civil to her attempts at concern - languid though they were - then she wouldn't be polite to him.

She felt Guy grab her retreating hand, "But my head feels like you poisoned me as well." His failing attempt to reconcile himself with her, by giving her something to tend to, almost caused Marian to laugh. She stayed.

"I did not."

"Then who bloody well did?"

"I had the healer tending my father, come and help you. If it hadn't been for her, you would have died."

He muttered something and though Marian couldn't quite make out all the words, she was sure it was something akin to, 'I would have been better off.' Then, loudly he said, "You let _her_ poison me?"

"Yes!" Marian said, her jaw tightening as she spoke - why did he have to be so difficult? She made herself pause and reflect yet **again**: wasn't she being challenging as well? Shouldn't she let him have his demanding idiosyncrasies while he lay - hardly recovered from his deathbed? Marian supposed that she should… She needed to let Guy have his way - if that was the only thing she could do to show some concern.

Marian sighed, more frustrated with herself than anyone else. She looked down at her hand still gripped by his large one. She gave a sad smile and lightly squeezed his hand. Only for a second. Only for a moment. No longer.

Even in the darkened room, Marian could see his face contort into confusion - he was unused to this treatment. He smiled though, and it was almost surreal; his eyes far away as if seeing something in the distance - a future only he realized.

"Don't look so surprised. I am, after all, your wife." Marian enunciated her words with a determination that startled even her, despite her action of affection. But, she knew that having to convince herself of that affection - let alone her husband - was going to be harder then she imagined… She didn't want to overly encourage him, it was better to keep her distance.

He struggled to get up; he wanted to be closer to her. However, Guy felt the world resume its spin and he retched - trying hard to keep whatever was in his stomach there. "What did she give me?" he gasped, swallowing hard and running his hand down his face.

"Mandrake root," Marian said, preparing her words for his next set of questions; assuming he would have the same reaction to the plant as Allan had… Not that Marian was one to ignore superstition but she was grateful that Guy was alive. Moreover, without a doubt, God had already condemned him to hell - what harm could be done?

"Did she already have it with her or did you send some poor wretch after it?"

"Allan went."

Guy laughed loudly to Marian's astonishment. She looked mystified upon him as he spoke his next words, "He probably thinks you tried to kill him and damned his soul. Did he go willingly or did you have to use force?"

If the Sheriff had asked whether someone had balked at fetching him something, Marian would have been hesitant to inform him. However, the way Guy's eyes were dancing - well Marian didn't figure any harm would be done by a man who hadn't looked so amused since - she didn't know when. "Force is too strong a word -a threat worked well, though."

She let him take another drink of water, "Don't you remember anything from earlier?" Marian knew that Guy had been conscious for at least some of his illness; it was then that her stomach contorted into a tight knot and she prayed silently to the Holy Mother that he did not recall Robin's appearance. Though he had been asleep and fevered Marian was positive…

The laughter drifted from his eyes and his expression was stone cold once again, "No." Truth be told, Guy did remember hazy instances from the past day but he was unsure what was imagined and what actually happened. Why, he even thought he had heard Hood's voice but that was not possible. If that man were near him while he was ailing, he would unquestionably be dead. Besides, Marian would not betray him - so blatantly to his face that is… He _must_ have been dreaming that time.

What did it matter what he thought he remembered and what actually happened? Surely, he must be dead for Marian had shown him some affection that wasn't coerced out of her - this was heaven.

Before Marian knew what he was about - Guy's expression changed again from distant to soft and he raised his hand higher and laid it upon her arm. He wanted to know where he stood now - a proper opportunity had not presented itself since last night. "I care for you, Marian. Isn't that enough?"

She looked startled, "Isn't what enough?"

"Enough to be content with one person who cares for you - many women are not so fortunate."

_Many are not married to a murderer who wants to kill your former love. _She almost winced at the words 'murderer' and 'former' but held back. "How so," she asked after a weighty pause - though she knew that her gender was taxed and put upon, she wanted to hear his view on the matter. He was a man after all - the other half that caused many a woman's problems.

"They marry and bear children to husbands who don't care for them - that only see them as a way to expand their lineage."

"Oh, and I suppose that is not how you view me?"

"No. It is not." He strategically left out that was how he felt about her at first. A Lady wife to add strength to his irreputable name. It hadn't helped that Vaisey tried to instruct him on the ways of women - that she was only a noble good for producing heirs, and other than in the bedchamber, he should keep his distance.

She almost felt vulnerable, he was telling her how he felt and she didn't have the courage to respond in turn. Once she said something - she could not take it back… Marian wanted to be sure that whatever she said - be it of hate or affection - that she meant it. She had to say something to temper the blow, "Guy, I am wed to you and will remain so. Isn't that enough?" She used his own statement - what more could she say?

Heaving a sigh, Guy looked into her face, his fleeting expressions a mixture of gloom, hope, and finally acceptance, "I'll take that." _For now. _He couldn't argue with her; his only consolation was the remembrance of the other night, the way she felt in his arms and how she held onto him. One day he hoped that he would again gain that feeling without pretence - that she would give her affection freely and willingly. He didn't want to have to take it from her… Guy felt that instead of drawing them closer together - their lovemaking had only succeeded in pushing her farther away.

* * *

><p>It was at first light when Allan slipped back into Guy's room. He was startled to find Guy conscious and on speaking terms with his wife. The moment was too far gone for him to leave - they had seen him. Allan felt ill at ease for having interrupted them, "I was just seein' if all was well. I'll come back later."<p>

"No, wait," Marian interrupted his progress. "Tell the Sheriff that Guy is awake." She looked in Guy's direction, "He wanted to speak with you."

Allan felt the need to cringe; if it were anything like he assumed it would be, Spencer would be on Vaisey's heels… Intercepting that man was not on his list of desired activities. He steeled himself; he would do it - he was not to be cowed!

Embarking on his assignment, Allan took the opportunity to replay the events of the previous day in his head. He secretly hoped that Guy would never find out about his un-loyal heroics. Yet, he wished that Robin _would _learn from Much what his role was in the matter. Of course, with his luck, Robin would likely blame him for the entire escapade…

Before he knew it, Allan was standing outside the Sheriff's chamber. Taking a deep breath he entered the room. Behind his desk Vaisey sat hunched over, examining something intently. Allan was hopeful that he was alone but then, just as he expected and dreaded, Spencer was there, staring out the window. They hadn't spotted him and Allan stood in the doorway catching the tail end of their conversation. It was about Guy.

"He shouldn't have bothered," Vaisey said with disinterest tainting his voice. Allan shuddered with repulsion when he saw that the man was busy fussing with his toenails.

"It was a waste of his time, my Lord - and yours. Since she had already been whored, it would have been a kindness to leave her to her fate. Not attempt to reintroduce her into society, she'll be ostracized by many, without a doubt," Spencer responded in turn. He was trying to usurp Guy in the Sheriff's graces - Allan was certain of it. It brought to mind Tom, his younger brother. Oh, how Allan loathed all the times that little imp tried to better himself by agreeing with their mother when his elder brother had gotten wedged into a tight corner.

Allan was not one to tempt the workings of the god of fortune but in this case, he felt he must. He chimed in, "I dunno. I thought it was a rather brave sort'a thing ta do." It was at that moment that he felt two sets of eyes boring into his body. Allan shifted uncomfortably under their weighty gaze. Spencer snorted and then, after a slight pause, laughed mirthlessly. Smirking, he said to Allan, "Hard to tell the two apart sometimes; what one considers brave - more consider stupid."

The Sheriff broke into a broad grin and ceased his ministrations with his nails, leaving his foot positioned on the edge of his desk, "Ah, Spencer - have I told you how '_**brave'**_ you were for running after Hood without telling me?"

Sir Spencer choked. He then grappled with his words and finally said, "Well, at least I didn't get laid on my death bed."

The Sheriff strummed his fingers against the wood of his desk, "But Gisborne got what he went after - you - you didn't even get a trinket for your efforts."

Allan spoke up again, "Actually that's what I'm 'ere about - Guy is awake."

* * *

><p>Guy was alone. Marian had left to inquire about some food from the kitchen, though Guy had begged her not to - he didn't feel like he could stomach anything right now. The door opened and the Sheriff walked in unannounced, "Gisborne - good to see you alive. It looked doubtful for a while - but I had a lovely eulogy prepared for you - though it eulogized my exceptional influence in your life more than your actual pitiful life, I'm afraid. Can't have the peasants seeing you for what you really were - a leper, loving do-gooder."<p>

"Milord," Guy said as the words bit into him. The man he looked up to - idolized even - took true pleasure in ridiculing him. Guy felt even sicker at the derision. He struggled up into a sitting position - he wanted to stand, show Vaisey that he was a man - not the scared, hungry lad he once was. He managed to stay upright, though his stomach lurched violently, "I regret - I cannot stand."

"While you lay mewling and moaning, Prince John has requested a favor."

"What kind of favor, Milord?"

"He hasn't directly said, but - I do believe that it will be a large one… See, it has something to do with the crown and its - uh - illicit lineage."

"Milord?"

"Enough of the questions, Gisborne! What? Does marriage not satisfy your carnal desires enough? Must you plague me to keep your mind off what you're not getting from your finicky wife?" Humm? Is that it? Well don't expect any assistance from me on that head - you brought this upon yourself."

Guy sighed, letting his eyes meet the floor - anywhere but Vaisey's face. He didn't dare question his mentor anymore. He knew better than that. The only thing that he was even remotely grateful for was the fact that Marian was not present to witness his humiliation.

Unbeknownst to him - she was. Marian stood outside the door, listening to the Sheriff belittle her husband. It made her blood boil and though she wished it did not bother her so, she couldn't prevent the feeling. However, what troubled her more was the 'favor' that the Sheriff spoke of. A request from the Prince could not bode well…

The Sheriff stared down at Guy, with a superiority that could drive the willpower out of King Richard himself, "Well, you better pray that you can get your carcass on its feet, before Prince John comes. You know full well what they do with lame horses - don't you Gisborne?"

* * *

><p><em>AN Sorry for the long wait - been really busy. Next chapter will skip ahead in time - I promise. :) I hope that Marian was in character. I have such a hard time writing her… Trying to get her emotions and actions to coincide is like pulling teeth (the Sheriff's to be precise :P). I am literally biting my nails thinking about her. I also hope that Sheriff Vaisey behaved accurately for his personality… I tried to get him to insinuate more, as **LadyKate** suggested. :D I hope it worked… Any ideas about PJ? And who __**is**__ Spencer…? Thank you for reading - I hope that you enjoyed it. :)_


	13. Temptation

_Temptation_

The winds were rough that day, billowing and blowing about; sending the washer's basket tumbling, bending back the supple sapling, and snapping her husband's coat out from behind him. Marian stood, arms crossed, at the open window. The wind gushed inside and sent her hair into a tizzy. Guy looked up at her from below, a hurt expression crossed his face for an instant, and then it was gone - just like the wind blown leaves. They'd had another argument; this one before sunup even.

It had been two weeks since he was found half-dead at the castle. Two weeks since she had resolved to try to love him, as a wife does a husband. Try she did; yet he seemed to frustrate her plans at every opportunity. Like he always did…

Despite regularly attempting to put her into her place - a place that was as disdainful as Winchester's vice grip to her - he never went so far as to resume any intercourse between them. It puzzled her greatly that he had not yet asked her for his marriage dues again. It was almost a feeling of dread - what was he waiting for? Was he trying to upset her life even more by tormenting her? Or was he simply uninterested? Though she herself waited for him to recommence his husbandly attentions, the entire state of affairs was shrouded in petulance and anger - sadly mostly on her side. The reason being that she, though not for lack of trying, almost longed for his touch.

That first night at Locksley - fully being his, had been the only time since Winchester had taken her that she felt nothing mattered. That kings and monarchs did not matter. That love and hate were one and the same - when mostly she stood on a hair's breath between the twain. That _she_ was in control and could do as she pleased without the censure and condemnation that pervaded the rest of the world.

However, Guy had been withdrawn since, and it cut her to think that he was through with her. The angry thought that he was only after her maidenhead, threatened to bite her, but she knew that could not be the case. He had been willing to love her even when he thought that Winchester had taken her honor. That was something to remember.

Marian watched as Guy and Allan mounted their respective steeds and turned toward Nottingham. She huffed in her annoyance and inward frustration. It was his own bloody fault if he was miserable.

Though, at times, Marian gave Guy ill motives for not claiming his husbandly right, his purpose was nobler than she gave him credit for. Guy fought an internal battle every night. Though they shared a bed, mere inches from each other, he considered them to be at different ends of the world's spectrum and unable to mingle.

Oh! How badly he wanted her, he dared not even fathom, lest he give into his carnal temptations. He wanted to give her time; she needed that and though his desire was strong he didn't wish to take it from her. She had not begun to accept the idea that they were married - so he assumed at least. There was no apprehension that she could be with Winchester's child and he felt at ease on that regard. He had all the time in the world - if only he could survive that long without her…

Havey-cavey, ramshackle thing that their marriage was, Guy wanted to make the best of it. He wanted to show her the kind and gentle husband that he could be. Though the start was rough he even went so far as to pray to God, as unheeded as those prayers might be, that the remainder of their union would be unhindered by hate and distrust.

* * *

><p>Guy stationed himself behind Sheriff Vaisey for the duration of the council of nobles. This entire meeting ate at him far more than usual. Not only was he denied the right to be seated by his fellow landowners - for he was not counted among their brethren as of yet - but his whole morning was in shambles for Marian had insisted on attending.<p>

She had pushed him to the brink of madness. He only wanted to lash out and strike as he might do to an unmindful, impetuous guard under his command. Though insanity loomed, judgment held reign and he had the sense enough to control his hand.

Marian was determined to attend in place of her father, he himself being too frail to go. Whether she had set up this scheme only to cause him to admit his past wrongs, bringing shame and hurt upon him, or that she still wanted to have a former privilege at her disposal - he didn't know.

"You are my wife now," he had said whilst pulling on his gloves. "It is not your place to attend for your father."

"But my father has a right to be there," she answered. He could see the color rise in her cheeks - there was something more to this argument…

"Yes, well your father is unwell and not able to leave his room at present."

"Then shouldn't I be there to later apprise him of the entire goings on?"

"No," he said, trying in vain to give his words an air of finality. The look in her eyes told him he had failed. She was incensed over something and wanted blood - his, he figured.

"Then you will tell him?" The question was not really a question - the answer already known.

"No," he said again on a sigh - he knew where this was headed now. There was nothing to do but wait, only quitting the room would end the inevitable.

"Why not?" she asked cruelly - she was attempting to give him a reason to become angry with her. Give her a reason to push him away for yet another day.

"Because the Sheriff has not seen fit to grant your father - or you - leave to attend." If only she would not drive him to say something that he would regret…

She looked piqued, "And why not? It is my father's land - his manor -"

He knew she used the words to slice him, for there was no manor house anymore - he had seen to that. Sometimes he wondered if, in fact, Marian was not his redemption after all but some heavenly tormenter that God had sent to remind him that salvation was always just out of his grasp… Yet her angelic features prevented this assumption from taking firm root. While these thoughts were still racing through his brain, he cut her off, "As of now the Sheriff is managing Knighton in the absence of anyone who has sense enough to do so!"

He regretted his words even before they had fully left his mouth. Guy could see that she regretted hers as well. Only after he had irrevocably blundered once more, did he walk out the door and down the stairs, refusing to allow another set of words to pass between them. Now he found himself here - attending a meeting, he wasn't privied to be a part of, while his wife sulked at home because of the same bloody gathering.

The only thing that he had to be grateful for, was the hubristic Spencer was not in attendance at the council. He had been dismissed by the Sheriff for the time being - until the meeting was adjourned. Guy was pleased not to be forced to see his loathsome face for the afternoon. Nevertheless, it would only be for a few short hours because Vaisey wished to speak with both of them on the matter of the Prince and his upcoming arrival to Nottinghamshire.

Another matter aggravated Guy and it had nothing to do with Marian. Allan. Five times in the last fortnight, Allan had disappeared. Now, Guy was not fearful of his betraying him to Hood but Guy could smell the liquor on his clothes and breath by the time he reappeared. It seemed that Allan was engaging in some entrepreneur ventures - cheating tavern patrons out of their tax money.

Though Guy had taken pains to _shake_ Allan out of his business scheme, it had not appeared to do any good. It wasn't that Allan was running off when he would be initially missed. Oh no, he waited until there was a period of lax activity so he could slip away for an hour or so and slip back when he had filled his pockets rather copiously, in addition to the amount that Guy paid him for his more 'permissible' services.

Gisborne could only hope that the Sheriff did not notice Allan's absence as he himself had. Maybe the Sheriff only thought that Allan was embarking on an errand that Guy sent him on. Discontenting, though, was the fact that Spencer seemed to take ample note of Allan's sudden disappearances and debauched reappearances. Guy had heard by word of mouth, that Allan had crossed the terse knight; undoubtedly, the latter would be seeking revenge. Guy wished that, should Allan continue, he could be the first to extract punishment for his clandestine dealings if he so chose to scuttle off again… Guy hoped that, after their last encounter over the matter, Allan would have the wisdom to remain at his post.

At the conclusion of the council Vaisey walked briskly to his chambers with Guy following at his heels. Upon their arrival, however, the Sheriff was angered to find that Spencer was not awaiting them. It was with this knowledge that Guy excused himself and went on the hunt for Allan. Feeling slightly unnerved and ill - though he couldn't rationalize those feelings in the least - Guy realized that he could not find him. Knowing that Spencer was on the prowl for Allan's hide, caused Guy to strike off for the tavern. He could only hope that he found Allan before his rival did... And when he found him - oh, when he found him, Guy was going to make him wish that he had never taken up the fault of gaming.

* * *

><p>What he didn't know, was that Allan was drowning his sorrows as well as profiting slightly from his fellow man's poor hands. That was where he sat this afternoon. Head down on the table, mug gripped like a vice in his hand. Four downed - one in the works. He wouldn't be like this if it hadn't been for seeing a flash of a once admirable companion, stealthily lurking in the market place; hood pulled over her short cropped, dark hair to make her undistinguishable. She could hide her appearance easily but she was unable to hide the sad recognition that stole over her face when she spotted him. If it hadn't been for that fleeting glimmer of history long past - Allan would not be jug bitten at present.<p>

Any thoughts of the day's plan, he had lost after the fourth ale had crossed his lips and quickly pooled in his stomach. The dark rough wood on the tables and floor, the dim, shrunken candles that dotted about, and the stench of sweat and drinks long splattered and soaked into the floor, were all he had care to notice at present. Moreover, even those were hazy to him. At least he didn't have to see Djaq's woeful eyes upon him anymore and hear her voice telling him that he was still a good man… Good man be damned! He was the scum of the earth for betraying his friends. These were the first friends that had not betrayed him first!

As Allan lay there, dipping a little too deep, he didn't bother to take note when the room grew silent from all the crude laughter and egregious sounds. A shadow loomed over him, it took Allan a long moment to register this fact. When he did, he craned his neck backwards and upwards in an attempt to see the figure that hung over him. His hands suddenly affixed themselves behind his back and the table pressed into his face, leaving lines and creases as it dug into his sensitive flesh.

A voice was at his ear, hot and gravely, filled to the brink with emotion - hate - anger. "Forgetting our duties are we?" _Spencer! _

Despite the quantity of ale he had only just consumed, Allan felt his mouth go dry. Spencer pulled him upright and forced him to stand on shaky legs, "Well then, I'll be forced to remind you of them." Allan felt his feet drag as he was propelled to the doorway. Spencer grunted with the strain of his task, "What you mustn't forget - is that - I intend to kill you - accidentally." _Accidentally on purpose -_ Allan's mind fumbled.

Allan was no quitter. He had never been content to sit back and watch what was happening to him with a disinterested eye. He struggled - encumbered as he was by his drink. Spencer had been waiting for such an occurrence - it gave him leave to 'prevent' Allan from escaping.

Feeling his eyes darken, after a painfully sharp burst of light, Allan could only assume that he had been punched in the face. However, the throbbing did help confirm his suspicions in that regard. He pushed away, no longer feeling the confining grip on his hands, and felt another blow to his face. His lip oozed blood and he pressed at it with his hands; stumbling to the ground while Spencer continued his unmerciful assault. His nose was next and Allan again felt that sharp rupture of light in his eyes as the soft tissue of his nose met with a fist.

Allan was horrified to find himself suddenly surrounded by the contents of a horse trough. The water pounded at his eardrums and the muffled coughs and sputters that he made went unheard because of the thunderous splashing that his arms produced while flailing to get out. He was somewhat sober now and his mind raced to concoct a way out of this dire predicament.

In an instant the pressure, that Spencer was using to push him into a watery grave, lifted off him. It took a moment for him to be able to draw himself out of the water - his entire body throbbed with the effort. When he had accomplished this, he was met with the sight of Guy of Gisborne belting Spencer downwards, causing him to land on the seat of his breeches. A mixture of surprise and amusement came with this particular spectacle.

He grinned as broadly as his sore mouth would let him. "'E's sticken' up fer me!" Allan slurred with his busted lip, pleased to know that Giz cared so much about him - though that transitory thought could possibly have been the alcohol talking…

Guy continued his onslaught on Spencer until the later was sprawled on the ground, clutching his stomach and bleeding from the mouth. It was not that Spencer was of little consequence in a fight but Guy had taken him by surprise, managing to knock the wind out of him.

Allan forced a smile from his cracked lips as he watched. It wasn't often that someone assisted him - he knew he could easily handle Spencer by himself, but it was rather pleasant to know that Guy appreciated him. Therefore, with Guy taking up his cause and throttling Spencer, Allan was quite stunned when Guy dropped the latter and stalked over to him. Allan was even more startled when Guy grabbed _him_ by the shirt collar and hauled him back to the water. And he was at a full-blown loss for words when he found that Guy was shoving his head _back_ down into the trough.

As Guy held Allan down, he became aware of a sense of enjoyment - payback as it were - for all the trouble that Allan had caused him. Spencer's idea was a poor one but Gisborne had every intention of utilizing the handy _tools _of execution. Surely, this would teach him to wander off! However, one thing that Guy couldn't do was keep Allan's head poised under the _frolicking waves _for long - his own unforgotten experience of drowning was still fresh in his mind.

Allan floundered for a moment until Guy pulled him up for air. Practically spitting with anger and exertion, Guy said, "Don't ever - leave your post again."

Having no other or better option, Allan nodded his head and felt Guy heave him to his feet. He wavered slightly but steadied himself using sheer willpower. The lack of air had made his head fuzzy and Allan was unable to make up his mind as to whether Giz was helping him or harming him. It was, Allan decided, not worth trying to figure out.

The desire to stay at the tavern and throw Guy and his duties to the wind, was very strong indeed and he almost voiced his opinion of righteous indignation. Gisborne was no better than Spencer! He hadn't really come to his aid - only attempted belatedly to finish Spencer's task of drowning him! Allan was not certain who the worse opponent was: no one was fighting for his life - only who would be allowed to finish him off first… Though he had to admit that he knew far better where he stood with Guy…

Half out of curiosity and half from morbid dread, Allan glanced at Spencer, catching that man's undeniable glare almost instantly. Spencer looked all the more formidable with the quickly purpling bruise on his cheek and his hair in disarray, while the blood slowly dripped off his bottom lip. While Spencer remained on the ground, with his knees tucked up under him, just waiting for his breath and strength to come back, Allan decided to take the lesser of two evils and accompany Guy back to the castle.

During this strained trip back, Allan fondled his clogged, aching nose. Through all the dried blood, Allan managed to mumble something - incoherent as it was.

"What?" Guy barked, annoyed at the entire situation that Allan had placed him in, not to mention Allan himself.

Allan heaved a loud irritated sigh and spoke again, enunciating his words carefully, though he still sounded very nasal, "'e boke my nose!"

Guy shook his head, "Your mouth broke your nose."

* * *

><p>The temerity that Spencer possessed to attack Allan, made Guy's blood boil. Not for the fact that Allan's illicit activities needed checking, he was full aware of that himself. Not for the fact that he wickedly pummeled Allan, for Guy had intended to deliver that sort of punishment as well. It was the fact that Spencer took it upon himself to stop Allan - it was not his place.<p>

The Sheriff was busy when Guy arrived at the castle with a bleeding Allan in tow. It was almost a relief but Guy knew that it couldn't last forever and that Vaisey would take his fury out on him for leaving at a very inopportune time. Till then, however, Guy nudged and or shoved Allan along the corridor to the kitchen.

Allan initially made a feeble protest but quickly silenced when he saw the stormy look that Guy bestowed on him. Guy entered the kitchen in Allan's wake and dunked a slightly soiled dishcloth into a bucket of russet colored water. He slopped it at Allan's bruising face, "Hold it there."

He caught the kitchen girls staring at him - in horror probably. Guy turned his head away to avoid eye contact. Though he hadn't solicited any of their notice since he began wooing Marian - Guy could not deny the twinge that hit his heart when he knew that he could easily have any of them in his bed - yet his wife was untouchable. He felt weak - unable to get Marian to love him. He stalked out of the kitchen and made for the Sheriff's chambers yet again. Allan trailed along behind him; sopping cloth still plastered to his hot, swelling face.

Guy sighed when he heard Allan's still cocky voice ring out, "Ladies" before he diligently trotted after him. When they were out of the sight as well as the hearing of the kitchen, Guy whirled around to face Allan. He shoved him in the chest and up against the stone wall, "What were you doing?"

Allan let go of his drowned cloth, which somehow managed to remain over his battered face, and put his hands up in a defensive posture. He thought about telling Guy that he was just being friendly but that blatant sarcasm might earn him another clout to the head. He decided simply to admit his sin, "I was drinking."

Guy pushed him again, "By the smell of you that's obvious." He paused, taking in Allan's previously unnoticed bloodshot eyes, unwashed hair, and stained shirt. It was apparent that his man was suffering on some account… Nevertheless, that didn't matter at the moment. What did matter was the fact that Allan had palpably disregarded his orders. "Did you think that I wouldn't know?"

Allan's mouth began to runaway with him before his mind could even take a step - his head was in a muddle after all, "Naw, I didn' think you were as quick as that." He flinched as Guy raised his gloved hand to belt him; he only hoped that one of the ridged, decorative wolf heads wouldn't bite his nose…

With great restraint, Guy stayed his hand - though Allan could tell that he found it against his better judgment. He reminded himself to check his words before he spoke them when around Gisborne… That could mean life or life with visible scars…

Allan still sounded like he had to blow his nose, when he spoke next, "Not bein' funny but how did Spencer know about it? I understand you but not 'im." Of course, Guy would notice his absence - Allan had the nerve to disregard his direct orders. However, Spencer should not be aware of Allan's stations or even care. The thought unnerved him…

Guy sneered into Allan's face, "He wouldn't have known if you hadn't been rattling down the halls!"

It took Allan a moment to register that Guy was referring to lining his pockets with significant and weighty coin - hence the rattling noise. Allan felt a little sick when he recalled that, though he had won abundantly, he had spent almost every cent on liquor… If he hadn't done that ill deed, he might have actually _been_ rattling down the halls…

Allan felt forced down the shadowy hallway as Guy pushed him onwards to, what he could only assume, was the Sheriff's chambers. He vaguely recalled that the Sheriff wanted to speak with them today. The dust motes, that shown in the soft light of the corridor, usually came close to making Allan sneeze but today his nose was too stopped up by blood and swelling to allow any of the powdery grime to enter his nostrils. This was an indirect benefit.

Opening the door, Guy said, "Sorry for the delay, Milord." He grimaced when he saw Spencer standing before the Sheriff; slightly hunched over, his hands leaning upon the desk with determination - an angry stance.

Spencer turned to see the latecomers and his lips curled into a derisive sneer. His face was splattered with bruises and Allan felt his hand instinctively move to one of his own wheals. Spencer had the wherewithal, by means of his contusions, to draw the Sheriff instantly to his side. In spite of this, it seemed that the Sheriff was in no mood to argue with either party and dismissed Spencer's accusations with a flick of his wrist.

"Ah, Guy," Vaisey said, standing up and walking around the side of his desk, "Are you ready to discuss business?"

The look of shock must have registered across Guy's face when he realized that the Sheriff was not about to browbeat him for disappearing. Alas! The gleam in the man's eyes told Guy a different story; he was certain to pay for his actions later. Guy shuddered.

Spencer was not about to let this go without a fight, "My Lord, don't you think that it is time we tried this traitor? I know Gisborne's toying with him but he is, after all, an outlaw."

Allan couldn't hold his tongue - though his time of being able to speak freely in Robin's company had sadly vanished, "Fine. Les' have it out, eh? Combat." He had to stop to take a breath before he continued to speak, being unable to breathe and talk at the same time while his nose continued to swell. "Bu' wait - you'd have to choose a champion; not man enough to fight me, are you?"

Guy ran his hand down his face in exasperation. Why did Allan insist on insulting Sir Spencer after the latter had tried to kill him? Allan's egregiousness was going to mean his end... Spencer did not take kindly when Allan's words regarded him as unable to fight his own battles - as one of the fairer sex. However, it appeared that Allan was not the only one using childish insults.

"Unfortunately, the ordeal by bread is reserved for nobles - or you would triumph over that, your mouth being so large," said Spencer, taking a step closer in Allan's direction.

Allan could have laughed at that particular trial. The ordeal was that if you could swallow the slice of bread without choking - you win, if not and you managed not to die of asphyxiation - well, then you were subjected to a far worse fate…

In light of Spencer slowly moving nearer to Allan, Guy maneuvered himself beside his delinquent man. He did not want him killed but Guy also knew that Allan didn't need to have his tongue to live. At the moment, that option was looking decidedly more appealing…

Allan rolled his eyes and continued mocking him, "Don't you know a lot about the law." Secretly he thought that Much, God help him, would win at that ordeal and even enjoy himself… He behaved as if Spencer's connection with the Sheriff didn't signify, that it didn't matter what he said or did. Guy could only pray that the Sheriff would take into account the fact that Allan was inebriated.

Spencer smiled and half closed his eyes, looking in Allan's general direction, "My Father was involved in law once." Only Guy caught the flicker of aggression, the unsaid malice that tinted his words, and for the life of him, could not see them being directed at Allan…

* * *

><p>Unknown to any of the men in the room, a figure hung about outside the door. The figure was pressed up against the wall; so closely, that she could have melted into it. Marian was making certain that she caught every spoken word. This surely was a conversation that contained a wealth of important information.<p>

She felt a pang of guilt for spying on Guy, her husband, the way she was. Though it passed quickly, he had refused to let her attend the council and so she was stealing this from him at least. Mayhap this information could assist Robin in his endeavors. That thought sent another bolt of worry and dismay into her heart. Robin. She hadn't seen or spoken to him in a fortnight. Though it was wrong to betray her husband to the man who loved her, Marian couldn't help herself. Guy hadn't done anything to support her cause or earn her loyalty - she tried to push the thoughts about his rescuing her out of her mind - Robin, though, had given her cause that enlisted her assistance.

She remained where she was and listened closely:

The Sheriff spoke, "Enough bawling between you! We need to continue with business. The Prince has asked personally for our backing on a certain - ah - trifling matter."

"What type of matter?" Spencer growled and though Marian couldn't see it, his glare was directed at Allan.

"A matter of lineage. See, the Prince's brother - illustrious, sinless King Richard - has tainted the family name. A stolen kiss here - a quick tumble there and all that culminated in a squalling, wailing bundle. You know about those, Guy. Don't you?" Marian bit her tongue at the Sheriff's mention of Guy's previous dalliances. Though she knew - deep down she knew - that Guy had his share of mistresses, the unspoken words that were finally uttered, cut her heart intensely. Yet she couldn't quite see why it should bother her so.

Guy and Allan were quiet at Vaisey's accusations and report - Spencer, on the other hand, was less reserved, "A baseborn? Lord take it, that is not unlikely. Why, most of us have gotten a child on some odd, savage wench." Marian was irritated that Spencer could speak so casually about the male race and their acts of impropriety and fornication - for if a woman were to taint her body and name with such acts, they would be positively cast out.

Spencer continued, unabashed by his previous comments, "What's so special about this ignoble wretch?"

"This one," the Sheriff said, "Is a special pet of the King's. It seems he was even granted the privilege to live in Aquitaine - with the Queen Mother herself. Prince John worries that, should the Lion fail to produce a legitimate heir, this Cub might hinder his own succession."

Marian heard Allan speak next, his voice was hesitant and nasal sounding, "You mean kill 'im?"

"Why give the man a schilling - he figured it out! You were wrong, Sir Spencer - he does have some wit."

Marian felt her heart leap into her throat at the suggestion of killing a boy. She wished that she could peek around the corner and see Guy's face. See if he condoned such a barbaric act. Though she couldn't give herself that privilege, Marian was startled when she heard him begin to speak, "Is that truly necessary?" There was silence accompanying those words. "Wouldn't the death of his son, illegitimate or no, set all of England - and France for that matter - in an uproar?" More silence. Guy coughed, "The Prince should try to get the boy to be his ally - that would set the populous firmly on his side. To see Richard's son supporting him - that would do far greater good than turning him into a martyr."

"I see. But do you think it is wise to try to change the Prince's mind once it is made up? A clue: No. Besides, Gisborne, it has come to my attention that your leper has ruffled your little feathers. Maybe you haven't even shed the down under your wings." Vaisey poked Guy in the chest with one of his well-manicured digits "You've gone soft."

Guy held back the snarl that threatened to mar his face. Spencer caught his eye and smiled at him - though he had to force his battered visage to comply with these actions. Guy felt like growling - that filth had no right to pretend to be better than him!

There was no further argument from anyone in the room and it was not long before Vaisey called the entire procedure to a close. Marian stole away before anyone could spot her. Deftly she left the castle, slipping out just as she slipped in - she had something important to do. Even though Guy's attempt to stand up to the Sheriff failed, Marian knew someone who wouldn't…

* * *

><p>Guy waited until Spencer had cleared the room and was well down the hall, before he gave Allan permission to proceed. The latter started down the opposing corridor and Guy intended to follow him but the sleeve of his leather jacket was quickly taken hold of - the Sheriff was not through with him yet.<p>

Once Allan was out of earshot, the Sheriff began to speak, daintily picking a piece of dirt out from under a fingernail and examining it closely before flicking it at Guy, "I hear you haven't been playing nicely with Sir Spencer."

Guy defended himself to the best of his capability, "If he hadn't set his designs on my man - made a move on him without my consent or knowledge - you would find I could be very agreeable."

"I'll let it slip by - control your fists in the future - wouldn't want you to damage your pretty little knuckles." He gave Guy's hand a brisk pat before sitting down at his desk and becoming absorbed with his ledgers - he was dropping the subject. "Don't disagree with Prince John when he arrives with the boy in person. I'll not risk my neck saving yours."

Guy gave a brisk nod, thanking the holy mother that Vaisey did not decide to take out his wrath on him. He strode to the door and was halfway out when the Sheriff's voice stopped him. "What, Milord?"

"I said: how is Marian feeling? Is her stomach churning in the mornings quite yet? Or does that not come till later? I was never good with these womanly functions."

"Milord? I don't understand," Guy said, shifting his position on the threshold.

"You know, when women pretend to become deathly ill because they are with child." He looked at Guy's startled expression and took its surprise for bewilderment, "You can't possibly think that, in all the cold, lonely nights that she spent with him, Winchester didn't do your job for you? Can you? Well, I suppose that you could, you are rather gullible. Make no mistake - any babe that slides out from betwixt her legs is not yours. You're too late on that account, Guy. A sad second."

Guy felt his breath catch. Only he and Marian knew. No one else. There was no chance that any child had Winchester's blood. Nevertheless, Guy was not about to dispute this fact with the Sheriff - it was doubtful that he would believe him and Marian would hate him for the shame he would bring upon her. But wasn't the embarrassment of her violation worse than the discomfiture of her purity? He held his tongue, unwilling to risk her anger.

"A word of advice: there are many things that you could acquire from Blight that, with an _accidental_ drop into a drink, would rid you of your wife's disgrace. She would never know and no one else would blame you."

Guy was stoic in his reply, "I'll keep it in mind."

* * *

><p>Marian reined her horse to a stop when she heard the silence of the forest. Too silent. That could only mean that Robin was close. She felt her heart beat loudly at the thoughts of seeing him again. The things she wanted to tell him but couldn't now. Maybe one day…<p>

She didn't even have to call out for him - Robin sprang down from a nearby tree. "What has he done to you?" his words were accusatory - he couldn't bear to give Guy the benefit of the doubt.

Her anxiety as well as her joy at seeing him, vanished, "He hasn't done anything to me." She could easily read the un-acceptance and disbelief of his expression. She would not bother to fight it - it would only serve to confirm his unwarranted suspicions further. "I come with news - of the Prince."

Robin cocked his head, "The Prince? What news would that be?"

"He is enlisting the Sheriff to help him murder his nephew - the King's baseborn son."

Robin did not seem to be bothered or astonished with Marian's news about the King's illegitimate child; she wondered what else he knew and had kept from her… "You mean he is enlisting _Guy's _help. The Sheriff would not personally dirty his hands."

She met his eyes defiantly, "Guy took a stand against it."

"I'm sure a feeble, old man could have stood better." Robin looked at her intently; cut to the quick that she was defending Guy again. At least she appeared to be in good health - no visible bruises or slap marks. "And why, _Lady Gisborne_, are you telling me - an outlaw - this important piece of castle intelligence?"

Robin couldn't help the snide comment. Moreover, Marian couldn't help wanting to hit him. "We are on the same side - are we not?"

"I suppose we are. But how is that working out for you at present?"

"Quite well," she replied through gritted teeth. "I only sought to do you a favor. You seem to have vanished from Nottingham entirely."

Robin bit back how his faithful friend had met with a painful wound recently and how they were laying low so he could recover, "You just haven't been looking."

Marian felt the color rise in her cheeks - were all the men in her life bent on infuriating her? "At least do something for the boy!" With that, she quickly turned her horse around, intending to gallop back to Locksley, her husband, her new life - and away from him.

"Marian wait!"

She stopped and turned. Robin ran toward her and gazed up into her flushed, angry face. She sat upon her horse and waited for him to continue. He fumbled in his eagerness and anxiousness, "You are alright?"

"Robin," she said softly, but he didn't let her finish.

"It's dangerous for you to come here now," he began to undo the dark green scarf about his neck, "Hang this out your window if you need to tell me anything else - or you need something." He let the unspoken words hang in the air: distrust for Guy, fear of his temper and her pain. He did not need to say them for her to know what he thought just the same. Another set of tacit terms wafted before her - _I'll be watching you._ It didn't bother her, it strangely comforted her.

Marian took the length of material from him; it was soft to the touch and warm from his skin. She gripped it tighter. Robin's eyes were trained on her and they looked so hopeful that she could only nod her assent. She could still feel his love - his love that was immemorial for her and her alone. Her heart clenched; unwittingly she ran her hand across his cheek.

The scarf that she held tickled his face. His own heart jumped and beat against his breastbone. Suddenly, before he even knew what he was about, he gripped her hand to his face and pulling the palm to his lips, kissed her.

It was then that she regained her senses. Withdrawing her hand, gently but firmly, she turned away from him and rode off - leaving him to sigh into the wind behind her.

* * *

><p>Robin gave a small groan as he eased himself down on the edge of Much's cot. Much himself was sitting up, still unable to do many things that he was used to. He was sickened at Will's heartbreaking attempts at cookery.<p>

Placing his hands on his knees, Robin sat and stared with vacancy, longing, and a slight trace of happiness that Marian still cared.

Much looked hard at his master - trying to make out his thoughts. "What happened?"

"Marian came," was the wistful reply.

Much mouthed a silent "Oh," but paused and then said, "What about Gisborne?"

Robin's expression went from soft to steely, "We have work to do - the King's son is in danger. We need a plan."

The startled look was pronounced on Much's face, the insipid day that he had been subjected to, had suddenly taken a change - and he didn't care for it. "Master? The King's son? But he and his wife haven't - uh- uh - oh." Much reddened vibrantly at the knowledge. "Well. I suppose that - that - we all stumble…"

Robin almost wished that he had it in him to _make_ Gisborne stumble… Then Marian would be his…

* * *

><p>Racing back to Locksley before anyone noted her absence was Marian. She rode quickly praying that no one spotted her hasty exit out of Sherwood. Marian's hair was un-tucked and loose from the furious pace she had set her horse to. Her face was wind beaten and her lips were chapped. Quickly she dismounted and slid to the ground. She grabbed the reigns of her horse, turned around, and came face to face with Guy.<p>

She jumped in surprise, sending her horse skittering slightly backwards and away from her. "Guy," she said as calmly as she could muster. "You're back early." Swiftly she had the good sense to tuck Robin's token into the back of her skirt - he wouldn't find it there…

His arms crossed themselves defensively over his chest as he walked further out from the shadows that lingered on the side of the stable, "I wanted to see you. I had hopes of surprising you - I can see I succeeded." He took another step forward, "Where were you, Marian?"

She held back the gulp that threatened to choke her, "I went for a ride."

"Where?"

"Does it matter?" she asked, leading her horse to the stable and the waiting groom.

Guy blocked her path, "Yes."

She sighed, resigned, "I take offence. Don't you trust me?" The look in his eyes gave her the answer she sought. "I went down a few of the old forest paths."

He looked troubled and distressed, "That could get you killed." She wasn't sure whether he meant from the outlaws or the Sheriff… "Don't ride out there again."

Her brows narrowed and formed dark lines above her bright eyes, "I'll do no such thing." Pushing past him, Marian led her horse into the dim stable.

Guy stood, silhouetted in the doorway, waiting for her to emerge. When she did, he continued with his argument, "Listen to me."

Marian looked him directly in the eyes, "I'll not do that either."

Guy's only consolation was that she was not telling him a mendacity… He grabbed her shoulders as she attempted to slip past him again. Forcing her to look at him, he said, "It is my right to have you listen to me!"

Marian raised her hands and clasp his wrists, pushing him away, "Get off me!"

And just as quick as that, Guy pulled her to him and pinning her body with his arms, said, "Why must you always fight me?"

She made no effort to escape this time. Should she have, he would be tumbled over on the ground - he knew this. "It reminds me who I am." _And it makes it easier to push you away from me…_

"Who you are?" Guy questioned, unsure if her sudden words were superfluous or not.

"I am not just going to sit back and wallow in your every wish. I have a will of my own and it will not be stamped on by your need to control me."

"Control you? I don't want to control you - I want to love you. Keep you safe."

She looked up at him and he down at her, "You're trying to lock me away - I won't let you."

He exhaled and glanced away from where she was held, tightly in his arms, "I won't." Guy released her and stepped back, holding his arm outward, "You're free. Do as you wish." He refused to look at her, "I'll not keep you."

This was it. He had known that she despised his actions, hated the shell of the man he was on the outside, but he had hoped - hopeless as it was - that she could learn to live with him and maybe even come to see the good that was hungering to get free. She could not and he would not trap her again.

"I'll have the marriage annulled - say it wasn't properly consummated."

She was stunned and unable to speak for a while. When Marian regained her voice she stammered, "You would lie to a Priest?"

He laughed but it was bitter and full of loathing, "It will be one of my lesser sins."

There was silence on both ends. Guy watched her; trying to recall every time he ever spoke to, saw, and touched her. Committing it to memory - for that is all he would have, memories. She broke the hush, "I made a vow to you - I intend to keep it. I'll not break my words to man, God - or you." He had been willing to give her up - for no other reason than she was unhappy. He loved her and she knew it. Now she needed to prove herself to him. She needed to let him take the lead; he could only accomplish that if she took the first step…

Guy gulped and felt the growing tightness in his chest dissipate, "Well then - we best be going in."

With a slight hesitation, Marian crossed the small distance between them. Placing her hand over Guy's, she leaned up and gave his cheek a brush with her dry lips; trying to confirm something to herself as well as him. However that kiss was not enough, she was going to need to give both of them further testimony of her reception, "I'll try to be your wife, Guy." She gulped, exhaling silently - readying herself for her next words and the implications that they held, "In all aspects." That was it - there was no going back again. She could not push him away.

He needed to trust her. And she, herself. This was the only way to gain that dissipated confidence, and secretly she very much missed his attentions - not that that would ever be disclosed to him… This was her sacrifice for his rescue, so she told herself - trying to make the act one of duty rather than one that actually meant something to her. Pretending it was something she had to do rather than wanted. A sad attempt it was, if only she could read her own face she would see the truth and longing splayed there…

Those few simple words made Guy's breast tighten involuntarily. Maybe he was reading too much into them but those words meant more than life or death to him. Her face confirmed it - she wanted him. Or, if 'wanted' was too strong a word - too strong a sentiment - she was willing to let him love her. That was all he needed.

It was all he could do not to drag her back to the manor. That was when, while he briskly walked to the manor house with Marian beside him, struggling to keep up, he saw Allan come from where he had been inside the stable - following them.

Allan was startled when, upon reaching the doorsill, just a step or so behind Guy and Marian, to find the door slammed violently in his face. Well. At least it didn't smash his already busted nose! He hoped they were happy! By the urgent pace Guy was moving at, he was certain they would be… He only hoped that Thornton or maybe even Edward, if he was able, would let him in after the lovers had retired. If not, then he was morosely resigned to the unhappy station of the barn…

Meanwhile, inside Locksley, Guy ushered Marian up the stairs and to the bedchamber. He paid no heed to Thornton, who called out that dinner would not be long. Food was the furthest thing from his mind. The door was bolted and Guy turned to face Marian - his face expectant and troubled. A more gallant man would have reaffirmed her wishes, made absolutely certain that she was ready - that she was willing, but Guy was not a gallant man and was fearful that she would just as quickly reject him.

He grabbed her and kissed her, knocking the air from her lungs as he did so. Marian gasp in surprise and Guy forced himself to pull away, reminding himself that if he didn't ask for her leave that she wouldn't feel in control. He instinctively knew that giving her the lead was the only way to keep her.

Marian was called upon to make the next move. She felt lightheaded at the whole goings on - she also felt exhilarated. Closing the distance between them, Marian drew Guy back down to her. Nothing mattered after that…

* * *

><p><em>AN First I would like to apologize. I know that I said the next update would be in March but so many things have come up that my free time was eaten away. I had to help a good friend during most of my spare 'writing time.' And though I dearly loved getting to spend time with her, I was sorely vexed that my chapter wasn't done as soon as I would have liked. (Going to see the "Hunger Games" three times didn't help either…)_

_I think that the impasse that I had hit with "Humanity" is over. Now that Guy is better, we can continue with the story and action. I hope that this chapter was enjoyable and that all the participating characters (some more willing than others) were in character. Still interested in Spencer? We got a little hint of his past…_

_I know there is no real way to get sober fast (but I couldn't have Allan falling all over himself, now could I?). But after Googling that question to see what other people had to say, I found several comments that 'when something bad happens' your brain kicks in somewhat. Having never been drunk before - I can neither deny nor confirm these results. I did however take the liberty of using what I found in this story._

_The "Ordeal by Bread" was something that I tracked down on a medieval website, that I found really rather funny. You could prove your innocence by eating a large slice of bread without chewing. If you choked - guilty. If you swallowed it, without any problem - innocent. It was reserved for the Noble class. I don't know if it is real or not but it sounded so outlandish that I didn't think it could be completely made up. I took another liberty I guess…_

_I also know that there would be no chance for the King's son, Phillip, to be crowned. I am taking certain liberties - this is, after all, fan fiction… And I do not know all the details surrounding Phillip's life but I hope that using him in the story will not cause any controversy - it is a story after all._

_I know that I have been promising some Allan angst - I hope that will satisfy everyone for the time being. ;) Don't worry - more to come. Allan just can't keep his hand out of the cookie jar - trouble will follow._

_Re: Robin's comment about making Guy stumble. Don't worry - Robin is not heartless and wouldn't do such a thing. It was only a passing thought and given the circumstances, I can't exactly blame him._

_Also: Re-Guy/Marian. I hope that they were in character. I mean, Marian and Guy have already consummated their hasty marriage but I hope that Marian wasn't too willing (or unwilling for that matter) when the time came for her to let Guy have his husbandly rights. She **does** want him - she just doesn't want to admit it to herself. They are working on their patched relationship and a crucial step was for them to be more - uh - intimate. I hope it worked out well._

_Thanks for reading!_

_**Sorry - there will be no update in the month of May - I am just too busy... There will be one in June! :)** _


	14. Scores A

_Scores_

The sun had not yet started to peak above the tree line but Guy of Gisborne was awake. He was silent as he lay on the cool sheets; his arm wrapped protectively around Marian as she slept. He came close to smiling but it receded from his lips before it could count - he didn't want to be too sure of himself. He had been so in the past, only to find that his assumptions were faulty and he was humiliated again. No. He would not accept what he could not trust.

Though he was making certain that he was not impulsive in his faith, he did not find all of Marian's actions and affections illusory. He was confident that she was finding it in her being to accept him - even if she did not love him as deeply as he loved her. After all - had she not spent the night quite willing in his arms? If she were so determined to keep him at a distance, she would not have given herself to him for a second time. She wanted him. It was not as if he was dogging her to completely share his bed - he had given her space and she had repaid it of her own free will.

His next thought drove like ice through his chest - what if she was only trying to gain his trust? Allow him to be at ease while she was all too complaisant with him? What if her actions and attentions were all a well-planned ruse so that he would let his guard down? He sunk deeper into the paillasse as the thoughts made his heart beat faster and more painfully. What purpose would she have to commit such an unforgivable act? He could not rationalize Marian using her body as a tool against him. She would not. There was no reason to - unless… Hood.

He felt his breath draw in sharply. Was she giving him a false sense of security so that she could gather information for Hood? Did she think he would be so besotted with her that he wouldn't notice? No - she would not do that to him. She was too good - too pure - to commit the heinous crime of betrayal. He felt his mouth run dry as one word, that made the ice in his chest twist, cropped up in his mind - 'again.'

Slowly he stood and pulled away from Marian's warmth - his body felt abnormally chilled. He kept his mind from thinking about her. He made certain that he didn't wake her, not for the fact that he was being kind in letting her sleep but he didn't want to face her. He did not want to see what counsel a night's sleep had brought to her - he feared that she could change her mind about him, _again_.

* * *

><p>Allan had managed to make his way inside Locksley that night. However, his means of entry were unconventional to say the least. He thanked the saints that he had left his window open that morning.<p>

Though the night was known for bringing a peaceful respite to most, Allan only found a fitful sleep. His dreams sent him burning with shame and humiliation. Yet his waking hours did little to ease the disturbance the dark caused him. He dreaded sleep and waking as well. He felt as if he was in Hell; some peevish state of constant confusion, turmoil, and heartache.

When Allan woke in the predawn light, he ran his hand down his face in a swift motion - only remembering too late the damage that his nose had sustained. He winced - his lips protesting at the action. They too were stiff and sore - the dry skin pulled tight at his actions.

Sitting up he racked a hand through his hair then located his shirt from yesterday. It was still slightly damp from the first wash it had in over a week - unwelcome though the impromptu bath had been. The shirt's crumpled position on the floor had not aided its drying in the least; only seemed to leave some parts uncomfortably moist. Gently he pulled it over his head and attempted to smooth out the wrinkles that lingered on his chest. It did not work. But Allan didn't particularly care.

He went to splash some water from the basin on his face - only to find it dry. He had forgotten to fill it yesterday - Thornton did not have the time or desire to cater to his needs. Traitor that he was…

Quietly Allan made his way out into the hall. He was sure that Guy wouldn't be awake at this hour - not with the intensity that he was leading Marian into the manor - and locking him out in the process. Gisborne's absence would afford Allan some time to himself and the possibility of nipping into the Trip for a quick drink…

He pushed the door shut behind him and it closed louder then he intended. Glancing back to the sudden sound the door made Allan didn't pay any heed to where he was going. At least until his body collided with another.

Allan's first thought was that Thornton had been walking this way - then he saw the tall, unflinching, black boots and knew instantly that it wasn't Thornton.

Guy stood, blocking his path, looking down on him. Allan couldn't read the emotions in his eyes. Was it disdain? Superiority? Amusement? Allan finally decided that it was a strange mixture of all three.

Straitening up, Allan cocked an eyebrow at Guy. He refused to let himself feel lesser. Refused to be caught off guard. "Didn't think you'd be up so soon." That was the wrong thing to say…

Guy glared down at him, his teeth gritted, "Stop skulking in the shadows." His arms crossed over his chest reflexively, "Go fetch the healer."

"Marian sick or somethin'?"

Guy felt his stomach tighten with the thought. "No. I want her to look in on Edward." He hoped that she would notice his attentiveness. It might earn him a good mark…

Allan felt the pang of worry that, should he go near that horrid lady again, he might - at best - return in the form of a squishy frog; at worst - not at all… He held his tongue; Guy would laugh at him. He remembered telling Gisborne - after he nearly sacrificed his life pulling up the Devil's mandrakes - that God had stopped up his ears; he hadn't heard it scream. Guy's sardonic tone was hurtful when he responded with, 'I bet you screamed so loud that you couldn't hear it over your own din.' No, Allan would not let Guy turn him into a jest today.

* * *

><p>Allan gave an almost unperceivable tap on the sad little door. He prayed that no one would hear him… He jumped a good few inches when the door swung open and before him stood the healer.<p>

"What do you want?" she hissed.

Allan willed his heart to quiet its furious thumping. He tried to swallow as unnoticeably as he could, "Sir Guy wants you to see to 'is Lady's father." His voice came out commanding and stern - good.

She turned around to gather her supplies, "He still paying?"

"Of course." Without thinking, Allan took a quick glance around the room. It was piled high with clutter - the floor was caked with objects and dirt, the lone chair that adorned the slab of wood used for a table hadn't been sat upon in years so stacked it was with dried plants and precarious tilting clay urns. Allan didn't even want to comment on the smell. It wasn't of nonuse, it was as if no one had bothered to open the door to let the stale odor escape - he couldn't blame anything from wanting to escape this shack.

He jerked away when she unexpectedly touched his arm. Though he had jumped a good foot backwards away from her long fingers he hoped that she wouldn't have noticed, to his credit he hadn't yelped - he had been too startled to. Her glinting eyes told him otherwise…

"I hear Sir Spencer don't look to be as bad," the comment was offhanded.

"How do you know 'bout that?"

She waved a thin hand, batting him away as if here were a fly she'd disregarded for one of her ghoulish potions, "All the shires heard you got whipped by 'im."

Allan gritted his teeth in anger. Normally the first to make light of any situation, he found himself furious to be laughed at. It was bad enough when it was Robin or Gisborne - a private jest - but when the whole of Nottingham was flashing amused grins behind his back - that was worse than a kick in the stomach. _He_ was the one supposed to be making the jokes.

"What?" he said. The healer had been talking to him and he was too angry to listen.

She gave an exasperated sigh, "I said, 'I can help you.'"

* * *

><p>Squatting next to the fire, Robin stared thoughtfully into the deep flickering light. Much sat nearby on a carelessly deposited log - stirring a pot. Djaq didn't want him to be up for long - this was a compromise. Though Robin hadn't figured that Much would be anxious to get back to cooking, he realized that his friend felt useless lying around on his bed. Much wanted anything but that feeling and knowing this, Robin had pushed for Much to do his old chores.<p>

Being allowed to get up was thrilling and Much swung the ladle around and around the pot. These careless actions were directly disregarding Djaq's warnings of using too much force and hurting his healing wound. "If it's healing," Much countered, "Then I shouldn't have any excuse not to continue my duties. Right Master?"

Robin concealed a grin, "Of course Much, wouldn't want you to get any lazier than you are." He winked at Djaq.

Much looked offended, "I never considered myself - lazy! Well!" He turned his full attention back to his pot, muttering under his breath.

Much wasn't the only member of Robin's gang that was thrilled - Will was ecstatic. Never again would he take for granted a warm bowl of squirrel. Never!

Robin's gaze was intent yet again on the flames, _What are we going to do about the boy? _However, something else had been troubling him since his encounter with Marian the day before and another question ate at him - what was he going to do about his heart? He needed to take a walk - though secretly he hoped that his feet would stray to Locksley and he would catch a glimpse of - or speak to - Marian. Slowly Robin pushed himself up and meandered to the edge of the camp. In the span of a breath - he was gone. Vanished into the trees, into the shadows…

* * *

><p>Marian woke to a heavy heart. It was not that she strongly regretted the hasty decision of last night. It was that her husband had already left - not even giving her a second thought. Robin would never do that… Her thoughts made her sick, her stomach churning as she compared Robin to Guy.<p>

Surely, last night wasn't all he was after. No. He had proven himself to her in his past actions. He had feelings for her - she knew that. Even him being willing to annul the marriage for her sake proved that he cared more about her then he did himself. The thought made her sick again. She refused to continue comparing the two men that vied for her affections.

Marian was firm in her resolve both this one and the one she made last night. When she had kissed him, Marian knew that she could live with him - more easily than she would care to admit. She would love him. It was a deep, dark, and admittedly dangerous path but she intended to tread carefully. She had realized, though it was against her better judgment - that she couldn't help but walk this course - she just hoped that her decision didn't trample her first…

She clenched her teeth with determination as she dressed, willing all her apprehension about the future, to seep out between them before she spoke with her father at the table. She didn't want him to worry about her happiness. She worried enough about it herself as it was…

What startled her was when Allan entered the manor with the healer. Though that in itself was not surprising - the healer had come to see her father several times. It was Allan's attitude that caught her off guard - he was pleased. In addition, Allan never showed any emotions besides contempt and anxiety when he was around this woman… What was he about?

"Guy wants her to look at Edward," Allan said, holding his arm out for the healer to pass by.

So he _had_ thought about her before he left this morning. That was one of the first comforting thoughts she'd had that day. However, Marian furrowed her eyebrows at Allan - why was he so chipper? From the purplish marks decorating his face, Marian didn't see much he could have to be glad about…

Yet pleased he was as he let the door close behind him. He made his way over to his horse - greatly looking forward to joining Guy at the castle. He looked down at his clenched hand, opening it to stare lovingly at the small container of clear liquid. Allan smiled - truly smiled - for the first time in weeks…

* * *

><p><em>AN Dear readers. I am sorry. That is all I have to say. Life decided to occupy my entire time. Every time I turned around there was something else that I had to do. Again I apologize…_

_This is only part A of this chapter. The next WILL be posted by the end of September. I am staying with my Aunt and Uncle in Florida again for a couple of weeks and hope to have plenty of time to scribble down the B part. Thank you for your patients and understanding._

_I also thank you for your continued interest and comments. They mean a lot to me. I would also like to thank all the anonymous reviewers and all those who subscribed even when I hadn't written anything for a long while. Your support really makes everything worthwhile. Thank you._

_Why did the healer want to help Allan?_

_And just what **DOES** Allan have? Wait and see. Just wait and see. ;) _

_Just a small review of the last thirteen chapters… _

* * *

><p><em>1: We find Guy deliberately disobeying the Sheriff's orders to go after Marian who has been abducted by the dastardly Winchester. To do this he breaks Allan out of prison to help him. Allan agrees to help but feels that he is making a deal with the devil. Marian meanwhile contemplates her lot in life. Neither one of the men who wish to claim her hand has bothered to see to her rescue. There is no Robin in sight. <em>

* * *

><p><em>2: In chapter two we see what led up to Guy's decision. We also discover why Robin was unable to save Marian. He met with a near fatal riding accident and is in bad shape. Djaq even believes in the possibility that he will soon die. Then Will announces that there are riders in Sherwood - the Sheriff's men. Though they are nearly on top of them the Sheriff fails to discover the Gang's whereabouts. Vaisey does insult Marian's honor and Guy rides back to the castle in anger. It is not long before that anger triggers his passionate rescue attempt. We see him opening the dungeon door and descending into the darkness. <em>

* * *

><p><em>3: Guy's having horrible nightmares about Marian's fate. Marian attempts to escape Winchester's clutches several more times. Allan feels extreme guilt about betraying Robin and his friends. Winchester grows tired of Marian's nastiness and attempts to rape her. Just at that crucial moment Guy and Allan arrive…<em>

* * *

><p><em>4: Guy calls Winchester out and they duel. Though Guy wins the match it is not before he receives a nasty cut on his arm. Guy - fearing the worst - hastily proposes to Marian and she accidentally accepts. He refuses to allow her to ride by herself and insists that she sit in front of him. Guy gets rooms at an inn and sends Allan to find a priest willing to perform an impromptu marriage ceremony. Find a priest Allan does but willing he is not. Guy takes matters into his own hands and confronts the priest himself - forcing him to agree to the wedding. Marian agrees knowingly to wed him and walks into the church…<em>

* * *

><p><em>5: Djaq informs Much that Robin is going to be fine. The wedding proceeds with Winchester's ring instead of one that Guy would give. Allan unwittingly puts the idea in Guy's head that Marian could be with child - Winchester's child… Marian cleans out his wound. Guy won't consummate the marriage at this time and holds Marian as he starts to doze off. While holding her he feels something - a scar. She is the Nightwatch Man! He confronts her but forgives her to earn her forgiveness as well. <em>

* * *

><p><em>6: Guy barters with Winchester's ring to get one that she would prefer. Guy make sure that Allan is not keeping anymore secrets from him. They make their way back to Nottingham and Guy refuses to allow Marian to go to the castle - he braves it alone… Vaisey cuts Guy in punishment for running off without his say-so. Guy pushes Allan into the pond. <em>

* * *

><p><em>7: Robin wakes and fights to go and rescue Marian - he is put back to sleep by Djaq's handiwork. Guy takes Marian into Locksley they consummate the marriage. <em>

* * *

><p><em>8: Guy finds out the Marian hadn't been harmed by Winchester and is angry that she didn't tell him. Guy and Allan go to the castle. Robin disappears… Allan and Robin meet in Nottingham and Allan tells him that Marian in at Locksley. <em>

* * *

><p><em>9: Robin and Marian talk and Robin leaves - saddened that there is nothing he can do to change her mind. Guy feels terrible! Vaisey has kept one of the Black Knights, Sir Spencer, at the castle to assist in the capture of Hood. Guy is allowed to retrieve Edward from the dungeon and takes him home. He also has a healer take a look at Edward. Allan gets himself drunk. Guy passes out at the castle…<em>

* * *

><p><em>10: The Sheriff has Spencer bring Allan to him and then has Allan fetch Marian so that she can see her wounded husband. Blight is ready with his leaches… Marian gets to the castle and refuses to let Blight treat him the way he wants to - lest he poison him too… Robin comes to see her again and tries to get her to change her mind. Allan brings back the healer from tending to Edward. Poor Allan must collect mandrakes for Guy's cure. Guy hallucinates - much to Marian's displeasure. <em>

* * *

><p><em>11: Robin feels terrible about not being able to save Marian. He also hates that Guy was the one to receive that honor. Angrily he leaves camp and Much follows him into Sherwood. Sir Spencer is in Sherwood as well - looking for outlaws… Though Much sees the guards and runs he forgets one crucial point - the last man. Who also happens to be Spencer. Spencer stabs Much and has him captive until Allan, who has just taken the healer back to Locksley, intervenes. Much escapes but Allan is in trouble… Robin finds a wounded Much and we find out how he was injured in the first place - Much didn't tighten the saddle enough. Though Robin swears he will never tell him that. Allan is brought before the Sheriff by Spencer but to both their astonishment it is Spencer who ends up in hot water. ;)<em>

* * *

><p><em>12: Vaisey looks in on Guy… Guy and Marian talk. Vaisey talks to Guy when he is awake (there seems to be a lot of talking going on here…) <em>

* * *

><p><em>13: Guy and Marian fight about the council of nobles. Guy realizes that Spencer and Allan are gone at the same time. Spencer finds Allan at the Trip getting foxed. Spencer beats up Allan and holds him under the water in the horse trough. Guy intervenes and saves Allan from Spencer - THEN starts to beat on Allan himself… Vaisey informs the three of them about King Richard's illegitimate son and what Prince John wants done with him. Marian eavesdrops and warns Robin. Robin gives Marian his scarf to hang outside her window incase she ever needs to see him. Guy and Marian fight again and he tells her that he will have the marriage annulled for her sake. They then make up… <em>

_Now - ONTO PART B! _


	15. Settled B

_Settled _

It wasn't long before Allan arrived at Nottingham castle. A washrag - courtesy of Locksley kitchens - and the pocketbook that dangled at his waist, gingerly cradled the precious container. He could hardly suppress a grin but knew that he had to. If Spencer noticed his mood as being one of gaiety and not of somber shame, he would be done for.

Allan quickened his pace, standing to Guy's right before the Sheriff could have a good enough chance to question his whereabouts. Guy barely let his eyes flick to the side and look at him.

Spencer was there as well. His face darkened with spots that had turned a deep blue. His lip curled at Allan but morphed into a smirk, so serene and dangerously pleasant that Allan felt the hair on his neck rise. Dear lord.

Though the glint in Sir Spencer's eyes sent a chill to his marrow, Allan felt a sense of pleasure when he noted his adversary's split lip. The salve smeared on that particular wound did not appear to be helping.

Adorning the table were three chalices and the dark burgundy liquid looked so very tempting to Allan. It was not for the fact that he wanted to imbibe the wine along with the others in the room. Oh no - he just wanted to get close to it. Close enough to dump his container of liquid revenge into Sir Spencer's cup… He slowly took a sidestep in the chalices' direction.

Before Allan could continue, Vaisey interrupted his plan of action, "The Prince is arriving."

Guy knit his brows, "When, milord?"

"After you leave."

Guy blinked in surprise; he loathed it when the Sheriff spoke in riddles, "Leave, milord?" He did not feel like playing Vaisey's game.

"I expect you and Spencer to be gone within the hour. You'll arrive at Northampton in the morning and escort the Prince and his entourage through Sherwood Forest."

Guy felt a bolt of anger run through him; he addressed it, "Within the hour? That doesn't give us any time to prepare - Marian needs-"

"You shouldn't be worried about what Marian needs - you should worry about what I'll do to you if you don't worry about _**my**_ needs!" the Sheriff shouted, slamming a fist down to the table - rattling the cups.

Allan took the opportunity of distraction to take two more steps in the direction of Sir Spencer's cup… He almost prayed that the Sheriff would send the cups flying off the table - then Allan could volunteer to get them refilled. He came close to praying to God that such an incident would occur but thought better of it. God wouldn't listen to his prayer for revenge. Now it might be another story if he prayed to defeat his enemy in battle - priests were always asking 'bout that - maybe there was something to it.

"Are you loyal to me, Gisborne? Or your fledgling family?"

Exhaling, Guy spoke calmly, "My loyalty is to you, but-"

"Wrong. There can be no 'buts' when loyalty is involved. If I ever hear you say something like that again, I'll make it so that you won't have to worry about a choice. Do I make myself clear?"

Guy could almost feel his fingertips graze his pommel, he closed his eyes, "Yes, milord."

Vaisey wrinkled his forehead as if he didn't quite trust Guy's response. "You leave now - no more questions. Go!"

Allan only had one chance left - he would knock over Spencer's chalice himself. One little bump is all it would take… He readied himself - and Sir Spencer picked up the cup and quaffed it. It was at that moment that Allan knew Spencer was a pig. Swallowing his drink down in one gulp - not even being courteous enough to allow Allan time to slip the contents of his vial into the liquid.

He growled under his breath, his thoughts occupying his mind to the point that he didn't even notice Guy quit the room. Though he was quickly brought to his senses when Spencer brushed roughly past him and leered in his face. Almost convulsing in disgust at the sight of his features - Allan didn't have much to say about the man's breath either - he trailed Guy out of the room. Unfortunately he came dreadfully close to rubbing his nose to get his foe's breath out of his nostrils. Spencer was trying to unnerve him - that much was certain.

"Stay here and ready your horse," Guy told him.

"Oi, where are you goin'?"

Silently Guy continued down the hall. He caught hold of a kitchen girl, turning her to face him, "Prepare three flasks and enough provisions for several days and have them out by the stables in an hour." He released her and she hurried away. "Do not be late!"

It could be said that Allan jumped in Guy's path - though if the common man got to hear of this act of insubordination, Allan would have met a violent - albeit a quiet - end. So for the sake of his soul Allan would call his act an accidental trip, whereas Guy would refer to it as an act of stupidity. Either way Allan would be spared. "I'll fill the flasks, Giz!"

"No," Guy said, shoving Allan out of his way.

"I'm much more trusty than that wench - God knows she might try an' poison you or somthin'!"

Slowly Guy turned his head to look Allan in the eyes to see what manner of madness possessed him, "What good would that do her?"

Thinking quick Allan said, "Dunno maybe ya jilted her and she's barmy."

Guy raised his hand at Allan's ill thought comment.

No one could say Allan cowered but he did take quick action to cover his already sore nose.

Seeing this, Guy lowered his hand and then, feeling angry with himself for his moment of pity, turned his back to him and stalked off. Allan was tempted to comment on the state of Guy's mood but decided against it because he didn't have another nose to spare…

* * *

><p>Robin gripped the frail trellis that trailed down from the master window at Locksley. It was not weak with age or poor craftsmanship - for Dan Scarlet himself had built it - it was in poor health do to the fact that throughout his childhood and into his teenage years, Robin had become overly familiar with the grips and handholds that he had invented himself.<p>

Hoisting himself up he began to scale the trellis, being careful to avoid the vines that adorned it - he had learned the hard way about those vines giving way when he was a young lad. He cursed under his breath at a fleeting memory. Climbing here never failed to remind him of a young Guy fetching Lord Malcolm because his son had fallen and could not breathe properly. Though Robin would never be temped to use the word 'friends' when he recalled their childhood relationship; he couldn't completely rid himself of any pleasant memories associated with their occasional adventures into the surrounding woods or when they practiced the ancient arts of swordplay and archery together. At this moment - forcing himself to remember that Gisborne had stolen everything from him - Robin pushed those reminiscences aside and focused on scaling the side of his manor.

His feet hit the floor harder then he anticipated and he cringed. Standing completely still for a moment, he listened for the telltale sign of anyone of the household coming to investigate the thud from upstairs. No one came. As a point of fact - no one was in the room. He had hoped that Marian would be there and he might get to at least speak with her for a few precious moments.

Quietly he moved across the floor and over to the wall. It didn't appear that Gisborne had made many changes to the décor and layout of his room. The only difference worth speaking of was a black and yellow shield that hung above the bed-frame. It took all his willpower not to rip it down and hurl it across the room. How dare he stake claim to **his** room.

Though he was seeing red, it was then that he saw green. His scarf - the one that he had slipped to Marian - was barely peeking out from behind the shield. A clever hiding place, Robin thought as he tucked the wayward end back into its concealed spot. His chest felt light and airy as he smiled to himself - she kept it. He wanted to believe that her hanging it on the wall was more than just an attempt to keep it hidden. That it was, in fact, **his** colors hanging up where **his** coat of arms should rest. That she had done it symbolically, showing that he was still the rightful owner of this manor and all therein. He could only hope and he wouldn't ever ask her if it were true - the possibilities of how she would answer might only serve to make his heart ach.

He ran his hand over one of the pillows at the top of the bed - praying that is was hers. The thought of it being the false master's repulsed him to a degree that almost made him stop his ministrations for fear of it. It was at that moment, when he was standing there, in a place that was no longer his, touching something that belonged to a woman that he couldn't have, and thinking about what once was and what might have been - that he heard footsteps on the stairs…

* * *

><p>Guy took the steps two at a time; he had to speak with Marian before he left. He hated the fact that he had gone before she had woken today - what must she think of him? "Marian!" he called as he swung open the door. What he saw made his insides tighten and deep feelings of hurt, pain, and regret fill him.<p>

"You!"

A voice that was more mouse than man answered, "Me, Sir Guy?"

Guy looked to the heavens and turned better to face the stairs. "Who else do you see?" he asked the young servant passing under the railing.

The lad gulped in response.

"Where is Lady Marian?"

"I believe she went to town, Sir. She said she would be back before you arrived home."

Swearing Guy slammed the bedroom door closed and stormed down the steps. He would never have time to find her at the market. He would never have time to bid her goodbye. It wouldn't even be possible for him to tell Edward. Thornton informed him that the fragile man had gone to bed right after a visit from the healer.

Though he had raced here as fast as his horse could run, in spite of Vaisey's orders and his own better judgment, he still was unable to do something to please Marian. Even then, she might have scoffed at his attempts but he still would have felt better then he did now. At least she would have known that he cared enough to try. She would never know now.

* * *

><p>Robin gripped the edge of the windowsill as tightly as he could. Should he fall, Gisborne would not run for help this time but from this height there would really be no need to - he would be far worse off then when he had the air knocked out of him as a boy. Moreover, if by some miraculous feat he should survive this fall he would beg Guy's mercy to kill him instead of allowing him to suffer for the rest of his years as a cripple. However, he doubted that his enemy would oblige him so readily…<p>

By God's good graces Robin did not fall. And he thanked the Father above for that fact and for preventing Guy from hearing his feet slip and scrape against the side of the manor. Though listening to Guy yell had always grated upon his ears before, Robin was grateful for Gisborne's strong temper at this moment.

Robin let a smile cross his lips at Guy's lack of observation. He didn't even notice that only one shutter was closed, preventing the tips of Robin's fingers from being seen. He tried not to dwell on the fact that Marian had been Guy's main concern…

Holding back a groan, Robin lifted himself back over the window ledge. He rested on his ribs for but a moment until the pressure caused him to wince. Heaving himself onto the floor with as little noise as possible was a hard accomplishment.

Standing up and wiping the sweat from his hands onto his breeches, Robin grinned. She was in the market, the boy said. Then that was where he intended to go find her. Without hesitation Robin strolled down the stairs and out the front door - silently asking God for one more favor, that being that all his servants were as loyal as they once were… He could have maneuvered himself down the trellis again - but where would be the fun in that?

* * *

><p>Guy galloped to the stable at Nottingham castle. He was angry at having missed her. Now he would not get to bid her goodbye and she would make it a point to be annoyed with him. Quickly he dismounted his horse and stomped around the side of the stable - meeting up with the kitchen girl bringing the flasks out.<p>

Allan saw her too. He felt compelled to race Guy for the flasks, deterred by the fact that it would look greatly suspicious. He prayed that Gisborne would leave well enough alone and let her finish carrying them out to the stable.

No such fortune befell him. Almost violently, Guy snatched them from her and slung them over his shoulder. He gestured for her to return to the castle in rough angry movements. Allan had lost his chance yet again!

* * *

><p>Robin moved quietly through the market. He was quite proud of himself and he figured he had every right to be - his disguise was perfect! Not a soul would recognize him. Though the scratching was one downfall that his attire had to offer him…<p>

She was by the draper; fingering some cloth as she walked past. Coming up behind her, he twisted his face away from the crowds, "Do you have anything to spare for a weary field worker?"

Marian did not start at his sudden appearance or proximity. Instead, she slowly turned to face him. She blinked when she saw him, he had a sagging straw hat over his head and a straw - what Marian could only describe as a dress - hanging loosely over him, "What are you wearing?"

"A disguise," he said under his breath, "What does it look like?"

Marian fought the smile that threatened to overtake her, "A haystack."

He looked truly offended, "I'll have you know I took great pains to go undetected."

"No Robin - you're so out of place that everyone is staring."

Quickly he changed the subject, "I didn't see the cloth dangling out your window."

Marian rolled her eyes, "It was only yesterday that you gave it to me."

"Yes but I was expecting to see it a lot sooner." He wondered - privately though it was - whether the green cloth was for her if she needed to see him or for when he needed to see her. He hated to think he was being that selfish. Nevertheless, he could not deny the happiness seeing her brought him. It was like filling his starving lungs with air.

"Guy is not so cruel that-" she couldn't even take the words back - it was too late. Though her husband wasn't unkind to her - many others held a far different opinion of him… "He would not hurt me."

A thought struck Robin hard, "What if he finds out your secrets? What would he do then?"

He was prying. She hated that, "That is not your concern any longer." She wouldn't even tell him that Guy already knew of her being the Nightwatch Man.

She could not have hurt him worse if she had struck him across the face. He hung his head; his straw hat tilted forward and covered his eyes. She knew he was pained and it hurt to know that she had caused it.

Marian's fingers brushed the straw at his shoulder, "Robin-" But it was then that three horses came trotting through market - Guy of Gisborne at the head. Robin ducked behind a cart and Marian followed him out of sight - she couldn't risk being seen with him…

"Where are they going?" Watching the horses as they rode past, she noticed it looked like they were loaded for a trip - Guy hadn't said anything of having to leave… That was when it hit her - he had not bothered. Anger bubbled up inside her, "He's leaving! And he didn't tell me!"

Roughly she stood, almost knocking over some wares that were teetering on the edge of the cart. Robin followed suit and weighed his options carefully. He knew that Guy had been by Locksley looking for Marian. He also knew that she was angry with Gisborne now and that could work in his favor… But hiding information from her would provoke her wrath later, should she find out. However, that was a risk he would have to take. He did not tell her. Yet, once his decision was made, he couldn't deny the heavy feeling that threatened to suffocate his heart. His lungs were being starved again; his conscience was smothering them.

* * *

><p>Guy was not able to prevent his eyes from roving about the market. He hoped that he would spot her among the crowd, then he would be able to talk with her - all would be well. But that was not to be.<p>

He thought that he saw her once, but when he looked again she was gone. It could not have been her. His heart sank and he steeled himself against her impending anger by gritting his teeth. Glancing sideways, he looked at Allan who seemed himself to be distressed and brooding over some unknown torment. Guy couldn't care less at the moment - his own troubles were weighing him down.

Allan glared back at Sir Spencer but the glance was so quick that it was almost imperceptible. How could he get his plan to work if he wasn't allowed to come into contact with his foe's beverage? It was a mystery to him.

The healer had only told him what to do with the product - not how to get near Spencer's drink. She had been more then willing to furnish Allan with the container for, as the story goes, Spencer had come to her demanding attention for his battered face and had left without payment. Though Allan had to acknowledge that she was of a higher intellect then he had first given her credit for. She had gotten a bit of her own retribution by doling out a salve that would not keep Spencer's torn lip soft and moist, but one that would continuously dry it out.

* * *

><p>It was late when the trio arrived in Northampton and Allan again found himself designated to the uncomfortable, undesirable, accommodations of sleeping on the floor of the room. However, being as how Gisborne was paying and Allan didn't have a stitch of coin for the time being, he couldn't complain. It was far better than sleeping with the horses. This, sadly, Allan knew from experience…<p>

The only other downside was the fact that - at this time of night - there was only one room available. Therefore, Sir Spencer was a fixture as well. None seemed comfortable with these sleeping arrangements and Allan knew he would end up remaining awake the majority of the night, endeavoring to keep his neck safe.

The night went even worse then anticipated when Allan took it upon himself to tamper with Spencer's flask. He crept up and slinked over to the extra cot pressed into a corner of the room. This cot had been brought in for Spencer and Allan was bothered by that as well. His heart was pounding so loudly that he was certain that it would wake the others. His hands were shaking and he could only imagine what would befall him if he were caught…

It was then that he saw the flask, tossed carelessly atop a satchel on the side of the cot pushed against the wall. Paranoid Sir Spencer hadn't left any of his belongings within the grasp of others. To retrieve the item in question, Allan would have to reach over the sleeping man to acquire it.

Gulping, Allan eased his knee onto the edge of the bed and stretched forward. He touched the flask strap and felt a rush of joy. Amongst the possessions, Allan also noticed a belt with a dagger sheath - but no dagger…

The chill that raced down his back was colder than any winter frost or rain. It penetrated his entire body. Allan couldn't keep from picturing Spencer, having never been asleep at all, sitting up and plunging the dagger into the soft flesh of his stomach. He glanced at his enemy's eyes and thanked Mary that they were still closed.

He leaned a little further over the sleeping man and gripped the waiting strap between his fingers. That was when Spencer moved. Images of death running rampant through his brain, Allan inadvertently stumbled backwards and into the rickety stand that held the washbasin. The pottery smashed to the floor with a shattering bang. He didn't even have to look to see if Gisborne and Spencer were awake - he knew. He was done for…

"What the bloody hell is going on?" The yell was from Spencer.

Allan did what he did best - he thought fast. Jumping up from his prone position of the floor, Allan stomped his feet. Though this might sound queer to many who are imagining a child's dramatic tantrum, Allan had a very good reason for his escapades.

Guy hollered at him next, "What are you doing?" Gripped in his hand was his own dagger and he had a strong notion to use it on Allan.

Sweat beaded on Allan's forehead, "Oi, it's rats! They're bigger'n dogs!" He stomped at the ground a few more times for effect. If fortune were smiling on him, he would be able to pull this off. He was ever so grateful for the dark.

Guy sighed rather loudly and Spencer flopped back onto this mattress. Allan walked back over and lay down on the floor. It hadn't ended how he had planned but at least he was still among the living. He pulled the blanket up to his neck and rolled onto his side. He stiffened when he swore he felt something small and furry skitter past his foot. There would be no sleep tonight…

* * *

><p>Allan lay on the floor wide-awake when Guy used his boot to rouse him. Unnecessary as it was, Allan obediently 'woke' and groggily stood.<p>

"Get some food brought up," Guy said, his own eyes had dark circles embedded into his skin. Apparently, no one attempted the feat of slumber again after his 'encounter' with the rats…

Slowly and without ambition, Allan walked to the door and opened it. He combed his fingers through his unkempt hair and yawned - not caring that it would grate on Guy's nerves. Allan stopped in his tracks when Gisborne called his name, "Here!"

Allan had to react promptly in order to catch what had been thrown at him.

"Have these filled as well," Guy said, turning away from the door and the expression of his man.

Looking at the three flasks that just dropped into his arms, Allan received a sudden burst of energy and ran down the steps as if he were a fox running into an open hen house.

* * *

><p>A Dale was to the point of giddiness. His horse shifted - even it could feel his excitement. For good measure, he had added slightly more then the suggested amount… Oh well - it couldn't hurt anything. However, he had to admit that it was taking its time to work.<p>

Spencer took another long swallow from his flask, by midday he had all but finished it. "It's well past morning - where the devil is he?" Spencer said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

Guy ignored him and kept his eyes focused on the road that ran before them. The Prince would be arriving any time and he refused to be caught unwatchful. It was only a half an hour later that he finally turned to look at him.

Sir Spencer had given a horrified sounding gasp and was clutching his reins so tightly, Guy was certain that they would leave permanent marks in his hands. The look in his eyes was of utter panic.

Carefully but with increasing speed, Spencer dismounted his horse. Guy looked quizzical when the former hobbled from his steed to the nearby tree line and disappeared behind it.

Guy looked in Allan's direction wondering if Spencer had given him any indication of what was wrong. Allan was too busy biting his lip to keep his laughter in, to pay attention to Guy. Lord knows what would happen if it showed. It did not take Guy long to figure out that Allan had something to do with this and a pang of worry hit him. He looked down at his own half-empty flask…

Directly Spencer returned from his momentary laps in attention and began to remount his horse. He had one foot in the stirrup before he got that look in his eyes again and took off for the forest. Allan slapped his knee and beamed.

By the time an hour had passed, Allan had assumed an amused smirk and a steady stream of cursing was coming from the vicinity of where Spencer presumably was. Guy sighed; this was almost to the point of being boring. Though he couldn't doubt that it would be most entertaining for the Prince to come and catch Spencer with his breeches down… It would be wonderful for his rival to fall agroof.

Guy hollered for Spencer when he saw an ornate carriage drive up the way. He couldn't imagine what difference the three of them would make in escorting Prince John with the large amount of guards trailing the rig. But they were guards after all…

It was apparent that Spencer tried to come but was prevented - a slew of cursing followed the attempt and a new set of cursings ensued as 'squatters cramp' setteled into his legs. Guy quickly wiped the smirk from his own visage. Allan clutched his hand over his mouth. Guy had no doubt that he was involved with this nefarious plot but he was not going to be the first to admit this notion to anyone.

Guy dismounted when the carriage came to a stop. He practically yanked Allan off his own saddle - the man had no notion of respect! He bowed his head and dropped to one knee. Allan did the same and Guy was pleased that he was at least smart enough to follow his lead.

The Prince flipped back the curtain that hung over the window and glanced at the two men and the three horses. "Lose something?" Perceiving Allan's puzzled look Prince John continued, "Or can't you count?"

Without thinking Allan opened his mouth, quite possibly a bad mistake anytime but now it was even less opportune. Guy saw what was about to occur and considered cutting Allan off and saying politely that Spencer was indisposed. Nevertheless, he decided against it. He let Allan answer, "Oi, pardon my saying your highness but Sir Spencer has a case of the runs."

The Prince blinked back at them in shock but then laughed. Guy uneasy as he was, relaxed and addressed the Prince with respect, "Your Majesty, we're here to escort you to Nottingham."

"And what of your comrade? Am I supposed to wait on his leisure or are we to proceed without him?"

"We will continue on without him - he'll find us." Guy looked around and that was when he saw the boy - Philip. Despite the fact that he was tethered to the sorry looking horse he rode, there was no doubt in Guy's mind that this was King Richard's son. His greasy blonde hair was tousled and he looked pitiful - no better than a serf did. But he had a look of pride that made his illegitimate heritage unmistakable.

The boy's sharp eyes caught his and he looked on him closely, examining him curiously - almost questioning his motives. Asking why he was doing this. Guy looked away, unable to meet his piercing gaze any longer. What would Marian think of his murdering a child? He shuddered to think and prayed to God that she would never find out. Guy hoped that the Sheriff would call on Spencer to carry out the Prince's wishes for he wasn't sure if he would be able to live with that lad's eyes forever bored into his memory. But should the Sheriff demand it of him, he was not sure that he would be able to deny him…


	16. Riddles

_Riddles _

The evening was cool and the breeze that flew past every so often made comfort impossible. Guy was grateful for his leather coat that draped around him keeping him from the wind's bite. He risked a brief glance at the lad who rode between two guards - the boy couldn't have been any older then twelve and yet he had no cloak to shield him from the chill. The boy's eyes met his and Guy looked away. There was nothing he could do.

Were his morals so askew that he would assist in the murder of a child? For that was without a doubt what the Prince had planned. Was his heart that black? He didn't wish to think so, but the truth was staring at him this very moment.

Sadly, he understood why parents left their newly born babes out to die. Lack of food, not enough room, illegitimate offspring - why, hadn't cultures down through the ages practiced similar methods to rid themselves of unwanted children? Was this any different?

He tried not to dwell upon it and instead kept an eye out for Spencer, who was still preoccupied in the forest - wasting plenty of good leaves on his efforts… There was sure to be a shortage when he was done. Guy figured that he would rejoin them when they stopped for the night. That was until Prince John informed them that there would be no stopping.

"I'm perfectly content sleeping here," he said, patting the luxurious cushioned seat. "I wish to arrive in Nottingham by morning. I can't deprive my admirers in the shire one moment longer than necessary! They love me! Go, go!" He waved them onwards with his hand poised daintily out the window, his rings catching the last of the evening's sun.

Guy set his jaw and snarled at the guards to continue, secretly wishing the wind to tear through the carriage and freeze the Prince. Remounting his horse, he took another look at Philip; the boy looked exhausted, having been riding for quite some time. Though his buried empathy continued to arise and nag at him, Guy pushed it down deeper and rode on.

When the sun finished its descent and the cold worsened, Gisborne started to hear the boy's teeth chatter. He cringed. It didn't help that Allan was glaring at him when, just hours ago, he was quite content.

Veering off from his position beside Gisborne, Allan trotted up behind Philip. Although all he wore over his shirt was a vest - Guy's vest to be precise - he quickly removed that thin layer and tossed it the best he could over the youth's boney shoulders. Guy cringed again - Allan had far more humanity than he.

Though these thoughts bit into his mind and heart, Guy refused to show compasion to someone that he might be prevailed upon to kill. He had learned that lesson with Lambert. Although it was in fact the Sheriff who killed him, Guy knew that he hadn't prevented it. Marian acted as if he had done the act himself. That alone doubled the regret of loosing a comrade. The Sheriff demanded loyalty and for the sake of Marian's life, Guy would not give emotion a chance to make him question himself again.

He felt sick when he noted Philip looking at him once more; his soft blue eyes were peering out from under his unkempt, lengthy hair. Why the devil did he keep staring at him? If the boy expected him to assist in any escape attempt, he was deluding himself. Guy was already treading the deep and treacherous waters of the Sheriff's good graces; he couldn't afford to upset him again - not to mention the Prince.

* * *

><p>Allan felt his stomach protest the fact that he had not eaten since the early morning. He hoped that the Prince would demand his supper soon. He rubbed his hand against his left shoulder trying without much success to warm up his chilled flesh. It was worth the extra suffering to give that child his vest. What angered him the most about the situation was the fact that Guy refused to do anything for the boy. Then, recalling to mind how Gisborne treated the stable lad, he could rationalize Guy's cold indifference. It made him wonder what type of father he would be should Marian ever feel a babe quicken - that reflection made him grimace…<p>

* * *

><p>Guy dreaded traveling through Sherwood at night. There was a greater chance for Hood and his scruffy band of outlaws to ambush them from a dark thicket. He could only hope that Prince John would change his mind before they reached the edge of the forest.<p>

The pallid white moon gently lit the way for the travelers. The sounds that echoed through the cool night air were the low, abrupt hoots of owls and the shrill, smooth howls of wolves. Young Philip was skittish and seemed to jump at every noise he heard. Guy shook his head; Philip was obviously a craven child. Even the two men guarding him backed off ever so slightly - he would be too frightened to run, that was for certain.

Not long after these observations, another sound broke through the night - Spencer. "I'm announcing myself!" he yelled in the direction of the traveling party before riding up.

"Are you announcing yourself to the entire village we're passing through?" Guy growled when he was within proper hearing range.

"There was a distinct possibility that you would 'mistake' me for an outlaw and have me shot."

Guy nodded curtly - he couldn't deny this accusation, nor did he want to. The thought had been wafting about his mind…

The company, having stopped long enough to give Spencer a chance to get near, gave the later opportunity to swing off his horse and politely drop down before the carriage door. Guy hoped his knees got wet. "Your Majesty, I regret having been delayed but I took the opportunity provided me to procure some venison for your evening meal," Spencer took a quick glance to the back of his horse where a long, lean deer dangled. His planned speech had done its job and the Prince ordered a respite to prepare the meal.

Guy was disgusted. That was all that could be said. The Prince was overly pleased with Spencer's thoughtfulness and Sir Spencer was gloating in Guy's face. He sneered, feeling hot, angry, and wanting to utilize his power of authority, he almost told Allan to go and refill Spencer's flask from a nearby well - it was only a passing notion and he thought better of it… However it did afford him a slight smirk.

While Prince John's guards were collecting wood for a fire on which to roast the deer, Gisborne watched with disinterest, his only focus was on Spencer who seemed to have his own agenda. Let him try to impress the narcissistic Prince - he knew better. Guy was all too aware that the Prince's favor was as easily lost as won. Regardless of this wisdom, Guy still felt himself rankle - he didn't like to think of what it would mean for him if Spencer made himself the Prince's pet…

The fire turned into a roaring blaze that threatened to devour the scant village that was nestled nearby should an unwatchful eye let it loose from its confines. Guy bitterly hoped that the deer burnt. He also doubted the intelligence of the meal preparations. Not only for the fact that an accident could readily occur but this sizeable fire was drawing attention to them and with Hood always two steps ahead it was unwise to give any would be informant opportunity to expose them.

Allan felt a shiver of relief as warmth ran down his body while he held his hands out in front of him before the fire. He smiled grimly and went to get the child and move him closer to the inviting heat of the flames. It was in his utter surprise and shock that he called out, "Where'd he go?" At his unchecked words, every body pivoted in his direction and as a result, in the vicinity where young Philip had sat, mounted on his horse. The sudden and tense anger that penetrated the air made Allan wish that he hadn't said a word. Made him wish that he had given the lad a head start. Made him wish that he had given Philip the slim chance of survival. Instead, he had condemned the boy to almost certain punishment and future death. Allan A Dale felt ill.

Guy cursed under his breath and at once swung into his saddle, grabbing his horse's reigns. Spencer mounted his steed as well and bolted after him into the darkness of the surrounding forest. Guy knew, or at least hoped, that the pitiful animal that the lad rode wouldn't get far. As if forging an unspoken agreement and unholy alliance for this chase, Guy and Spencer split apart to endeavor to cut the boy off. His face contorted into a mask of anger - he refused to work with Spencer in any shape or form and decided to constitute his act as a separate search for Philip.

Gisborne had to give the boy some credit, his convincing act of terror and trepidation had caused a lapse in his guard and in effect, the chance for him to attempt escape. Clever lad.

His rapid pace blew his hair back and forced him to blink against the onrush of wind. Guy's nostrils flared almost painfully as the night air invaded them. The new green growth was set in shadow and he squinted to see better. There was no sign of Philip, he would have to rely on more than just his vision.

He brought his horse to an abrupt halt and listened. A deep scowl etched across his face, it was nigh impossible to hear with Spencer crashing through the brush like an addled boar… Ah - there was something. Guy ascertained that there was a distinction between Spencer's crashing and the child's. He listened carefully and was able to figure the approximate location of the boy.

Turning his horse to the left, Guy made his way in the direction of Philip. It was but a moment before he came upon the sorry beast and its rider, plodding noisily along. "Stop!" Guy commanded, bringing his steed to a halt. The boy turned and looked back at him with frightened eyes. He felt a rush of pity for the child but choked it back forcibly. Alas, the emotional disruption of his task gave Philip ample time to kick the horse hard, causing it to clumsily gallop further into the night.

Sir Guy cursed his ill fortune and tried to work his way around the undergrowth without twisting any of his mount's legs. This slowed him up and gave his quarry an even greater advantage; the brat had gotten away again!

Finally free of the vegetation, Guy sped after him and swore that he would not let this child outsmart him. He could almost hear Vaisey's derision if such an event occurred. That thought alone spurred him onwards.

It was a little bit before Gisborne could locate the boy this time but truth be told, it was only the horse he found, skittering away from the edge of a stream. No Philip in sight. Unlike the old, decrepit horse that was frightened by the running water, Guy's stallion had no trouble crossing the watercourse and he was once again on the hunt for the boy who was now on foot. That fact could work to both his advantage and detriment. Philip wouldn't be able to travel as fast on foot but he could hide with ease. He prayed that the frightened lad would continue to run…

His prayers were answered. Gisborne spotted Philip ducking out from a bush and running in the opposite direction of him. He gave chase and watched with growing frustration when Philip tumbled down a small incline, unable to stop his decent; his hands tied. Steadily Guy followed him and calmly spoke as if his tone of voice would make up for all the unspoken and spoken threats the boy had been subjected to, "There's no where to run. Give it up you can't hide from me."

Wild eyed, the lad turned back to look at him, "I don't want to die!"

"No one's going to kill you, boy," Guy said dangerously, though he bit his tongue on the unsaid and dreadful word 'yet.' He was not naive to the Prince's plan; he only feared the part he would be forced to play in it. "There's no use trying to escape, you'll not get far," Guy continued, swiftly dismounting his horse not far from the shaking child.

Philip stood still against the backdrop of fresh greenery; his shoulders slumped in defeat and sadness. He waited while Guy approached, ready to accept his fate. Philip mumbled something that Guy couldn't quite catch or maybe it was that he didn't want to hear it. Only one word but he could tell that it was harshly said.

Ignoring this Guy stretched out his hand as one would steady a spooked horse, "That's right. There's no where to go."

Suddenly the boy's knees buckled and he fell to the ground in a heap. Guy looked on in consternation but before long, the sickening _crack _that he had heard registered and he looked up from the helpless body of Philip and into the triumphant face of Sir Spencer who was gripping a large, thick stick.

"What in God's name are you doing?" Guy yelled, his eyes fixated on Spencer even as he bent down to see if the boy was still living.

"Fetching the brat," Spencer said, breathing heavily. Gisborne couldn't see any sign of his horse and assumed he must have gone on foot for some distance. He was also soaked from the waist down. If different circumstances were present Guy would have been amused - but that was not the case.

"Are you to bring him back dead?" He felt a pulse - thank the holy mother…

"Does it matter?"

"Do you want to take the pleasure of deciding that away from Prince John?"

The silence on Spencer's end took on a terror - apparently he hadn't thought of that. Guy gave Philip a shake to rouse him but there was no response. Growling he closed his eyes in frustration, what was he to do with an unconscious child? There was only one thing he could do. Sliding one hand under Philip's knees and his other under his head, he lifted the boy up and into his arms. He was surprisingly light for his age and Guy figured that he had been living in peril for some time.

Gisborne stomped over to his horse and laid Philip over the saddle. He mounted his steed and awkwardly managed to pull Philip into a seated position. Spencer stood there and watched; his brow creased with deep lines of thought - or was that worry. "Are you just going to stand there?" Guy snarled. "I'm not about to clean up your bloody mess."

Slowly Spencer began to walk on ahead of Guy. The latter let him take the lead - he did not intend to bring the injured boy back alone. He would not take the blame!

It was not long before they came upon Sir Spencer's discarded horse, tethered to an outstretched limb on the other side of the stream. Patiently Gisborne waited while Spencer waded across and dripping, swung into his saddle. He was very much aware that his foe, sensing imminent misfortune, refused to again take the lead.

Embittered Guy rode forward, taking charge of bearing Philip back to the Prince - taking the boy to his death. Looking down at the limp body in his arms he felt a worming feeling of anger toward Spencer. What he had done was uncalled for. It was then that Guy recalled Allan's reaction to his killing of Rodger of Stoke. Had that been unnecessary? No. He was ridding Nottingham of one of Hood's accomplices - it was necessary. If he could justify that - why was this affecting him so?

Though he was still breathing in hard, shallow waves, Guy felt a pang of disquiet that the child would die in his arms before the night was over. He could hardly stand to admit to himself that the Sheriff might order him to strike the fatal blow. He grimaced in dread and also derision of himself. Marian was supposed to save him, redeem him, however it seemed that he was still making deals with the devil - only now it was to keep her safe… As long as she lived, he had the chance of redemption but what if the price of his salvation was blood? An innocent child's blood? Surely, that would cancel the other out…

Slowly he reentered the makeshift camp, carrying Philip and hoping that the Prince would be in a spirit of good will and not blame him for something that was not in his power to prevent. Sir Guy took a deep breath and looked pointedly at Sir Spencer. Silence. Prince John, never a patient man, awaiting an explanation from no one, strummed his fingers against the side of the carriage where his bejeweled hand was resting.

The Prince raised a questioning eyebrow at the limp figure cradled against Guy, "Clumsy?"

"No," was Gisborne's stoic reply. "Sir Spencer hit him over the head when I already had him," he relished the bluntness of his statement - the anticipation of Spencer's retribution made his chest feel lighter. His eyes glinted as he caught Spencer squirming in his saddle.

Prince John slowly shut his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose while giving his head a mild shake. "Is he alive? I don't want him dead before I can enjoy it."

Guy felt his nose wrinkle and he swallowed hard, trying in vain to rid himself of the bitter taste in his mouth. Despite his internal struggles, he maintained eye contact with the Prince and began to answer.

Spencer didn't give him a chance to reply, "He is alive, your Highness - he just won't be giving us anymore trouble." He added as an afterthought, "Sir Gisborne hadn't apprehended him _**yet**_ - but all was resolved by my hand."

Guy growled privately while the Prince waved them off with a sharp flick of his wrist. He thrust the lad down to Allan who, with the force of the action, stumbled backwards barely managing to keep hold of Philip.

Allan carried the soaking boy over towards the fire and laid him down to keep warm, his vest did him little good now. Guy crossed his arms and watched the scene - which most might consider recounting as touching - fold out before him. It irked him that Allan was taking such time to tend to the lad and previously he himself hadn't even cared if the lad was chilled or not. Angrily Guy sent Allan out after Philip's abandoned horse - that would give him something to do other than fussing about the child and it would get him out of his sight. Mayhap Vaisey's own disdain for do-gooders was rubbing off on him…

Guy knew that Allan was looking down his nose at him for not being more considerate of the boy. However, Guy of Gisborne did not pride himself on kindness - he was the Sheriff's enforcer, not a wet nurse. It did unnerve him that he caught himself worrying about Marian finding out about his callousness. Mayhap it was too late for redemption - his humanity was too far gone to be worth saving...

As he was leaving, Allan stopped and surveyed Spencer's sodden appearance, looking him up and down as one might a horse they were about to purchase. "Couldn't find a garderobe?" Before Spencer could respond or attack, Allan vanished into the woods. Even though he was with Gisborne now, Allan still possessed the ability to disappear quicker than you could blink.

The only thing that made the remainder of the evening worth passing was the glares that Spencer received from the Prince. It was not for the fact that his illegitimate nephew lay unresponsive in the dirt, but for the fact that the meat was hardly worth eating. It had roasted unevenly - half was burnt while the other half was raw and chewy. Although it wasn't Spencer who sat by and watched the meat ruin, it was Spencer's gift and the Prince blamed whoever suited him.

* * *

><p>Upon mounting his horse, Guy silently watched Allan's own unspoken anger at the Prince's refusal to allow the unconscious Philip permission to ride in the carriage.<p>

"Just toss him over his saddle," Spencer said from his seat near the quelling blaze. He poked at the smoldering sticks sending sparks springing forth into the cold air - they disappeared as quickly as a firefly's flash. His own mind was working rapidly - what was he to do? The more Prince John approved of him the easier it would be to convince the Sheriff that Gisborne was of little use anymore. But if the Prince expressed anger to the Sheriff on his account - ill founded as it may be - well then, all would be lost to him. He had been planning this for years and he couldn't allow it to go up in smoke.

Sir Spencer wiped his hands down his pants and stood, flipping his hair to his back. Spencer was determined to be in control of his future. His father had repeatedly instructed him in the ways of control, action, and power. He could be a king in a sea of commoners if he set his mind to it and was willing to take any risk that enabled him to get closer to his goal. That goal was in Nottingham.

Guy knew there was a good chance that the boy would fall off, if not watched closely. Heaving a sigh and looking in A Dale's direction, Guy motioned to Philip. Though he doubted his acumen for his next words, he spoke them anyways, "Hand him up here."

Allan at first looked startled but then bit his lip in amusement, "You're gonna 'old him?" The thought of Guy carrying Philip all the way to Nottingham made all the mischief rise up inside him but Allan knew better and forcibly gulped down his mirth.

"Do you think it better to let him fall again? Hitting his head in the process?"

The smile dropped off Allan's face, "No - I 'spose not." With an exaggerated grunt, Allan scooped up the lad and hoisted him up to Guy's outstretched arms.

Lip flinching backwards as he tried to position the boy comfortably, Guy felt his arms tense at the light weight; he closed his eyes, letting his reluctance settle deep into the pit of his stomach. He hadn't held many children. The last baby he held felt like it had occurred a lifetime ago and the one before that - he didn't care to think on again. That was an unpleasant memory at best…

* * *

><p>The dark path was scarcely visible and Guy dreaded what they would encounter once they passed the cusp of Sherwood. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach that told him Hood would be waiting for them. He always knew when Gisborne was most vulnerable and that thought disrupted his peace more than the awkward situation he was in with the boy. Guy did not know how to be around children - even unconscious ones.<p>

Every noise set his teeth on edge. His horse felt his uneasiness and drew backwards, Guy nudged him on. It was at this point in the journey that Allan volunteered his services and offered to take Philip for a turn. Guy was about to silently pass the youth over, when Spencer added his snide, derision-filled comments, "That boy's about as big as you are. You're not man enough to carry him."

Allan had never been considered small of stature before. It was a shock to his ego and he didn't take kindly to it. "And I 'spose you could do better?"

"Yes. Yes I could," he drew his horse along side Gisborne's animal. "I'll take the boy."

Guy's eyes glanced sideways at his foe and then rolled upwards as if begging God to either send him a message or smite him. God did neither and thus Guy was expected to continue on his own and knowing what he did about Sir Spencer, he did not think it wise to entrust him with the care of the lad. It was obvious that he had some ulterior motive, more then likely entailing earning the Prince's forgotten favor again.

Allan shared his thoughts and took the boy from Gisborne before Spencer could object, "I think I'll tae' him." His teeth shown in a flash of a grin and he added with apparent sincerity and relish, "Wouldn't want what happened to you to happen to 'im too."

Flummoxed and angry that he should be foiled so quickly Spencer said, "And what would that be?"

"I wouldn't want him dropped on his 'ead."

* * *

><p>Seething, Guy knew wholeheartedly that Hood would find them before they reached the castle. There was not a candle's chance in fiery hell that Robin Hood could miss them. It was not the size of the party that would give away their whereabouts - it was the Prince's mouth. Prince John could not keep his voice down to save his soul and Guy could do nothing for fear of loosing his own tongue.<p>

Prince John continued to loudly prattle on, making a knot of warm unease fill Guy's stomach. The Prince was speaking of his nephew, "I'll say he was killed during a hunting party - a lion ate him. Oh - sweet fate! Wont it be a lark for my brother, The Lion Hearted, for his natural son to be eaten by a lion?" From where Sir Guy rode, he could hear the Prince slap his knee for giddiness.

Guy frowned and let the blackness crease his brow. "My

Liege, with all due respect I don't believe there are any lions in Sherwood," he said this on a light sigh although he kept the irritation out of his words as much as possible.

"And how do you know?" the Prince squealed indignantly. "If I want to say there are lions in Sherwood - I'll say there are lions in Sherwood!"

He gave a brief 'of course My Lord' and rode ahead closer to Allan. Even though he could understand why Prince John wanted to do away with the boy, he could not understand what great joy it held for the man.

The moon cast strange shadows along the uneven path. More then once Guy was certain that he saw an outlaw waiting for them to step into an ambush and yet each time it was only a stray limb or some other apparition that sent the hairs on the back of his neck shooting upwards. Therefore, it was with the large quantity of perceived danger that his guard continued to lessen and he was grossly unprepared when an arrow whizzed past his ear.

* * *

><p>He drew his sword before he knew it and Gisborne felt his jaw set like stone and his hands clench tightly around the hilt of his weapon, "Show yourself!"<p>

His horse danced on the trail, becoming more frightened by the tense feelings. Gisborne couldn't see well; the trees blurred together in the darkness, the shadows played tricks on his mind, the moon taunted him with its teasing light. Guy steadied his mount and searched the tree line for his enemy's hiding place. All he heard was a mocking voice call back to him, "Out for a moonlit stroll Gisborne?"

Guy let his face contort into a half grin half grimace, "I'm surprised to find you Hood. All of Nottingham thinks you've been frightened off."

"Maybe I just keep my doings private. Unlike you. Tell me - did you really think you could murder a child without anyone hearing of it?"

Gisborne felt his stomach lurch and then tighten - _who told Hood?_ Immediate suspicion fell to Allan. Hadn't he betrayed Locksley? What was to prevent A Dale from betraying him as well? But Allan was by no means an addled fool - he wouldn't dare risk Guy's wrath… The only other people privy to the knowledge of Philip was himself, Vaisey and Sir Spencer… Would Spencer inform Hood to meet his own ends? Surely not. But that was the last option unless… No! Guy refused to entertain the thought. She wouldn't. Or would she? His mouth was dry - she was more than capable of finding out what she wanted to know. She could. And she would…

Composing himself and ridding his mind of those terrible thoughts in favor of the task at hand, he said, "Your outnumbered, Hood."

"Maybe in manpower but not in wit."

Guy gave a low growl, "Why don't you show yourself?"

* * *

><p>Robin's boyish grin broadened and he looked to see if Much shared his mirth. Satisfied that he did, Robin nocked another arrow into place and drew it back. It sailed just past Gisborne's head again and smack into Prince John's fashionable carriage. Robin guffawed when he heard the King's brother shriek in terror. "Was that good enough?"<p>

Though he wished that he could continue to goad Gisborne, he knew that his small gang could not defeat fifteen armored guards without risk to Philip. Prince John might order the instant execution of his nephew and what if Robin was unable to prevent it. They would get the boy, but not tonight. At least they knew that he had arrived. That was a start - but only a start. Though Gisborne and his band were the interlopers now, Robin would trespass on the castle as soon as he was able…

He took a good look at the boy that his former comrade, Allan, was holding. Memorizing his features so that the Sheriff wouldn't be able to attempt any trickery. Had he known that the errand Vaisey had sent them on was to escort the Prince he would have been more prepared.

Without another sound, the band of fugitives disappeared leaving no trace, save the twin arrows. One embedded into the ground, the other adorning the carriage wall - a memento that they had happened upon Robin Hood and a reminder of what he was capable of. Silently he swore to the King that he would save his son's life or die trying. Gisborne might be willing to have that child's blood on his hands - Robin of Locksley would not. He would save Philip but with a plan that was as flawless as possible. Well - at least half a plan…

* * *

><p>It took a while for all to be considered safe before the Prince would consent to continue. Guy was unnerved by Hood's presence more than he cared to let on. He was even more unsettled by how they knew about Philip. Even if someone had seen them and informed Hood that they were heading for Sherwood - not a soul knew about the boy. His doubts ate at him, chewing slowly away at the surety he had for those closest to him.<p>

Deception. Lies. Liar! The word jumped out at Guy suddenly. Liar. That was the word Philip had spoken. He had called him a liar when he said that no one would kill him. Sir Guy couldn't deny the accusation - the lad was right, he was a liar. Oh, how much more torture it would be to have to look that boy in the eye and tell him so. If fortune was showing him favor perhaps the Sheriff would assign the unsavory task to Spencer. Guy shook his head, no - fortune had never smiled on him before…

* * *

><p><em>AN Umm… Hi there! I hope this chapter made sense - especially Guy. He was very hard to deal with in this chapter… (I mean REALLY!) I hope he didn't seem too nice (or not nice for that matter). He is trying to deal with the thought of what he might be forced to do. And whereas he has been able to distance himself before (e.g. when he would rather send the boys from 'Childhood' to the mines to an almost certain death, instead of killing them himself) he is unable to do that now and is having problems with it... I think. I hope. _

_Also I think that I might have misspelled Gisborne in some parts near the end (I saw what I did and tried to fix them - hopefully I found them all) but I was sick and taking cough syrup when I wrote it (finally had an excuse to sit down and write - I'm sick…) so that is my justification for the error and any subsequent mistakes throughout the chapter (written before my sickness or not.). _

_I would also like to thank all the anonymous reviewers! You guys are great! _

_And that's a wrap! (well - for this chapter anyway. ;) )_


	17. Views

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The darkness was steadily creeping in. The Sheriff had kept them late at the castle on account of the Prince's arrival. Guy had lingered by the cell of Philip while the child lay unmoving on the cold, filthy, stone beneath him. It was not until Spencer came down that Guy moved.

"The Sheriff wants to know what you're skulking about down here for?" Spencer peered into the cell and a glimmer of emotion raced across his face - though Guy couldn't quite catch what it was.

Guy's arms were crossed as he leaned against the bars. He glanced at Sir Spencer with a look of disinterest and indifference. He stared back at the boy and almost hoped that he died in his sleep. He would suffer less.

"What should I tell him?" Spencer broke Guy's distracted thoughts.

Guy sneered, "Nothing." He turned to ascend the stairs and stole one last look at the unconscious boy. Spencer remained by the bars himself and Guy felt a chill fill his stomach. He could only hope that Spencer was the one who ended up with the boy's blood on his hands…

* * *

><p>Spencer looked down at the boy. He had no personal concern for the lad; fulfilling his plan was all he cared about accomplishing. Philip was just another obstacle in his quest. Nevertheless, Spencer hoped that he would be able to use the boy to his advantage. He fancied himself good at manipulating people - the Prince was his next target and he could use Philip to firmly entrench himself in Prince John's favor.<p>

In the end, he was pleased that he had not killed the boy. It might play better this way. Disposing of him in the future would earn him a good mark and that might be something that he could rob from Gisborne. He smiled - his plan would come to a head. Surely, it would.

* * *

><p>Allan rode beside Guy as they approached Locksley. The young boy, Philip, was sleeping in the dungeons tonight and Allan felt his stomach churn at the thought. He had spent enough time in a cell to last for three lifetimes - what hell that little boy must be going through… It was bad enough for a full-grown man to be subjected to the harsh, despicable conditions of the dungeons - let alone a child. He didn't express his concerns to Guy on the matter lest the latter show him disdain and accuse him of being soft.<p>

Guy stared straight ahead knowing too well what awaited him when he arrived home. He had almost considered staying the night at Nottingham castle whereas the other part of him desired to hasten to Locksley and have it over and done with. For it was not the loving arms of a lonely wife that waited eagerly on his return but the cold glare of a woman scorned that prowled the manor waiting to pounce. Guy could not admit to being keen on reaching the manor house.

He lingered by the stable even as Allan disappeared inside Locksley to announce their arrival. What was he to tell her? That he had done the Sheriff's bidding and fetched the Prince and his nephew? That he feared he was expected to kill the child? Possibly in front of an audience while the Prince clapped his hands in a fit of glee? His stomach rolled when he remembered the nagging doubt that she already knew of these matters and had confided them willingly and without delay…

With unfaltering step, Guy walked to the manor. Pushing open the door, he came face to face with Marian. Having already been present for Allan's entrance, she was waiting for him. Guy pinched the bridge of his nose - this was not going to be pleasant.

"Where were you?" she demanded, hands on her hips, chin jutted out defiantly, lips pursed angrily.

"On business for the Sheriff," Guy said, unable to keep the weariness from creeping into his voice.

"What type of business?"

"Now that's not really any of your concern - is it?" Guy felt the twinge of guilt that his words were intentionally meant to provoke her.

Her eyes tore through him angrily. "No. I suppose it is not." She spun around on her heel and left him standing in the doorway.

His face darkened. Though this was the greeting he had expected, it was not the one he had hoped for. Biting back a snarl, he pursued her up the wooden steps and into their chamber. "Marian!"

Her proud face was looking haughtily back at him and Guy knew she was far from done. "Do you have no care?" she demanded.

Guy suddenly felt very cold, he took a step away and felt his back grow rigid. "You know the answer to that." His head was bent; his eyes looked hurt and yet they still managed to hold some of their harshness.

Marian felt as though her mouth had gone dry, she licked her lips, "At times I wonder. You left. You never told me. You didn't care enough."

"I came to tell you. You were gone!" Guy crossed his arms over his chest, placing just that much more distance between them. His eyes had narrowed and his nose wrinkled.

Marian's eyes widened slightly - he _**had**_ come. Though she knew that she was being unreasonable she was still at the peak of her anger. She would not give into his declaration. "So you say."

Guy flinched in surprise, "What would you like me to do?"

Power. That is what Marian felt at that moment, "Apologize to start." She locked eyes with her husband. She would make him back down first.

Guy laughed bitterly, "I could beg your forgiveness till I bled out on the ground and you would still withhold it. Because that's not what you want."

Marian broke eye contact without realizing it, "And what do I want?" Her voice had lost its fire. Pushing her hair back she looked away - she did not want to see his face. If she looked at him, he would see that he had been right. She didn't want to see the smugness dance in his eyes.

Guy gave her a forced, watery smile, "I don't know."

Marian looked up at him then, her lips parted in a gasp of shock. She gaped at him and sucked in her breath, opening her mouth again to address his statement but it was a moment too late. Guy had turned and walked out the door, down the stairs, and back out into the darkening eve. It was his turn to leave her standing like a fool.

She had expected him to continue the argument. She had not expected him to see her true self. To see that he was at a loss. To see that there was nothing he could do to appease her. He was even more right then he knew - even she didn't know what she wanted.

She gripped the banister so forcefully that she was sure the wood would splinter and rain down like a fast summer shower. After watching the last sliver of his long, black, coat slip out the crack in the doorway, she expected nothing less then to hear the slamming of the door as he pronounced his exit. But in the end, all she heard was a soft clack as the door closed quietly behind him.

* * *

><p>Outside Guy was not as composed or calm as he would have preferred. He snatched the stable door open; it wobbled and jerked at his abrupt, harsh actions. With controlled rage, he saddled his horse and mounted. It only took a second for his steed to break into a gallop once they were out of the confines of the stable.<p>

The past several days were coming one by one to play out in his mind's eye. None of them held any pleasantries for him. He felt as if the weight of the entire world was resting upon his shoulders and there was nothing he could do to alleviate it. Marian had been the culmination of his mental torment. It was time for him to take a step back. Before he could properly gather his thoughts Guy found himself in Nottingham. His horse had slowed without his knowledge and he was riding through the dark, deserted streets aimlessly.

Now it could be said that the devil had a hand in this but surely every man uses that excuse when he finds himself confronted with the door to the Trip. Without hesitation, Guy tethered his horse, pushed open the door and strode inside. It was brighter then he had expected, however that could be caused by the darkness he had been traveling in. The smell was unpleasant but it soon became apparent that his nose would get use to the strong odor. His ears were assaulted by loud laughter and drunken gibberish. Sparsely clad maidens - and he used that term lightly - were scattered around the cramped area.

He felt his face twist angrily at the people who sat and drank. These were some of the same men who claimed to be unable to pay their taxes. How could they make their women and children suffer while they squandered their livelihoods? However, deep down he knew that this was not truly the case. The majority of peasants worked hard, even slaved - though Guy preferred not to dwell on that - to feed their families and pay the Sheriff.

The offensive laughter came to a sudden halt and Guy's scattered wits took a breath's time to realize that he was the cause. Jerking out the nearest unoccupied chair, Guy swung into it, "Ale!" His eyes darted to the barkeep and saw his vacillation. He spit out the next word, "Now!"

After that, it did not take long for a tankard to be brought to him. He seized the handle and stared down into the coppery liquid. Upon seeing his own face, Guy sneered into his reflection before taking a long, gulping drink. The Sheriff was right - he was soft. Why, he couldn't even control his own wife. Most in his position would be man enough to put her in her place - by threats or even force… Though Guy lost his temper and couldn't deny the passing thoughts that gamboled through his mind - he couldn't bring himself to use physical strength to earn her obedience. He could never harm her. He was weak. In the treacherous world he lived in, weakness nay, humanity was not an option… He knew that.

His drink was gone long before he had slaked his thirst and he thunderously called for another one. All too soon, that one joined its companion. The noise had resumed though at a more subdued pitch. Everyone was cautious of the Sheriff's personal weapon. Guy paid no heed; he was too absorbed in his own troubles to care if he had put a damper on their wretched evening.

The table scratched at his leather-clad arms - roughening up the smooth skin; Guy cared not. Neither did the oppressive air bother him anymore. Even the alcohol didn't seem to burn as sharply after so many drinks. Guy felt no emotional response to anything until one of the girls of the inn gently blew on his ear as she sauntered past. Instantly he felt a rush of desire. Eyes clouded over with drink, he swallowed hard and looked at the temptress.

Coyly she smiled back at him but instead of feeling his heart quicken and his breath catch, Guy of Gisborne felt like he was about to choke. He looked away promptly - he would not betray Marian. Betrayal was the worse crime a man could commit and he would not be guilty of such an act against her.

He turned back to his dwindling drink, crouching his shoulders and trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. He loathed himself for the passing thought. One more mark against him. He drained his ale yet again.

* * *

><p>The hour had grown very late and Marian stood in her long shift, pacing the bedchamber. Guy had not come home and she couldn't help but blame herself. Her bare feet felt cold against the stark wood as she grabbed her shawl off the foot of the bed and swung it carelessly about her shoulders.<p>

Swiftly she opened the door and hastened down the stairs, straight into the area of the servants quarters. Without hesitation, she rapped upon the door she was looking for. When no one came, she knocked again. The third time she banged. Slowly the door began to creek open and there stood Allan, bleary eyed and rubbing his hand down his stubbled face - still careful to avoid his sore nose.

"Wa' is it Marian?" he said, making a show of yawning to remind her that he had been sleeping only moments before.

"Guy hasn't come back," Marian said, ignoring the disrespect that he was enjoying showing her.

"Well ya did give him the devil. Not to be funny but I don't blame 'im." Allan's face quirked at the stormy look she gave him. "Well what do ya want me to do 'bout it?" He threw his hands into the air in front of him.

"I want you to go find him," she said, the exasperation blatantly showing on her face.

Allan looked longingly back at his rumpled bed - oh, how he wished to back under the warm covers. "Marian - it's dark. It's late. He's not a little feller' he'll be fine." Well hopefully that had settled that.

Marian turned her back on him and stormed away, "If you won't go - I will."

Allan stood in quiet contemplation - if and when Guy found out that he refused to go at Marian's request and let her go out into the streets of Nottingham alone - why he might as well consider Sir Spencer his new found friend… "Wait - Marian!" He was ever so thankful when she stopped, though she refused to turn and face him. "I'll go find 'im. Don't get your drawers all in a bunch." He said the final part of the sentence as he brushed past her, boots in hand and padded to the manor door. Giz had better be grateful that he had someone around who wouldn't let Marian go gallivanting off into God knows what. Night Watchman or no - she was quite skilled at getting herself into scrapes. And now she was including him in them…

* * *

><p>By the time Allan caught sight of Guy's horse the night was well along and dawn was only a few short hours away. Shaking his head, he dismounted his own animal and tethered it next to Gisborne's. He saw Guy straightaway when he entered the weak light of the Trip. He stood out from the rest of the patrons like a duck in a hen house. Allan approached Guy, who curled around his tankard, both hands gripping it tightly as if it would run away from him given the opportunity. Guy looked like he would snap at anyone who came near and from the distance everyone else was keeping, it appeared he might already have…<p>

Allan eased down next to him, "Hey there mate."

Guy shifted his eyes in Allan's direction, they were barely open and Allan had to admit, slightly crossed. "Wha' da' you - want?" Guy spit out the last word and Allan tried not to be too obvious about wiping it off his visage.

"I came to bring you home."

Guy turned silently back to his drink, eyes now downcast.

Allan clapped him on the arm to lighten the mood; Guy moved his shoulder closer to himself. "Ya know - Marian sent me."

Guy perked up a bit at that, "She did?" His words were slightly slurred, tumbling over each other in their attempt to get out.

How many drinks had he had? Allan rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah - she's worried 'bout you. Wants ya home."

A sloppy smile inched its way across Guy's somber face. It took only a second before it fell. "No - she doesn't." He tried to gulp at his drink again - only to find it nearly empty. He slammed it down to the table, muttering under his breath curses and outrage at the approaching loss.

Allan nudged the mug a little away from Guy, "You know she wont be 'appy if you get foxed an all."

Guy chuckled, "Too late." He eyed the tankard and pushed it back towards himself.

Allan nodded gravely - he had a point… "Ya know it's not her fault she's a woman."

Guy screwed up his face in confusion, "What?"

"Women are fussy. They don' know what they want. One minute they're all over ya - t' next not so much. But they can't help themselves."

Guy snorted, "And what do you know about women?"

Shrugging, Allan scooted Guy's tankard a little bit further away once again, "My mother was one."

The small swig that Guy had taken before Allan had the audacity to move his mug, came spewing out of his mouth. While Guy laughed loudly, Allan was more than grateful that he had not been sitting across from him. But it was amidst this laughter that Guy felt a jerking pain in his chest. His amusement was replaced by dismay as the pain made his entire upper torso shudder. Guy growled.

Allan's eyes were laughing and he was desperate to keep that laughter from exploding from his mouth. He clapped Guy on the shoulder and stood up. Lifting up on his arm, Allan said, "Come on - lets get ya 'ome before you hiccup your way to the floor."

* * *

><p>Marian stood by the window waiting for Allan to return with her husband. She tried to keep her mind off where he might have gone but the distrustful and despicable feelings that he had ventured into the open arms of some trollup kept plaguing her.<p>

When she caught sight of two figures riding in the distance, she ran down the stairs to the door. She waited for what seemed like an eternity. It didn't seem possible for it to take anyone that long to stable their horses. Yet here she was - still waiting. It was about that time she heard Allan and Guy outside and with renewed fury she swung open the door. There stood Allan with Guy leaning heavily upon his shoulder unable to stand up straight let alone on his own two feet.

Her fury turned to shock and she stepped out further with her hands on her hips, "He's in his cups!" She exhaled vehemently and shook her head, frowning deeply as she did so.

Allan looked exhausted as if it had taken every fiber of his being to get Guy here. Sweat was running down his face from the strain of Guy leaning all his weight upon him, "It's worse than that, Marian - he's in his _hiccups_."

"What?" she asked, her brow wrinkled in bewilderment.

Allan looked to Guy for confirmation but Guy's short bout with them had ended soon after they started. Guy reminded himself not to laugh and drink in the future. Neither option sounded appealing - especially when done together.

Marian was still waiting expectantly for Allan to provide an explanation for his statement. Attempting to shrug but sadly failing with Guy leaning on him, Allan said, "Well seeing you must'a scared them out of him." Now whereas Allan meant that Guy was dreading a continuation of their previous fight - this particular statement could be taken quite the wrong way...

Marian made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. Ignoring Allan she turned her full attention to her husband.

Guy glowered at her from his sloping position against Allan. Sighing, Marian pulled her shawl tighter about her and stepped barefoot into the damp, cold grass and slipped under Guy's other arm. He tried to pull away from her and almost succeeded in toppling the entire procession over and onto Allan. Fortunately, he gave up that notion soon after his first attempt.

It took Marian and Allan's combined efforts to get Guy not only into the house but also up the stairs. The latter was proved a grueling challenge for Guy kept attempting to dismiss both of his assistants. He was determined that he could manage quite well on his own though the rest of the household would differ with him on that subject surely.

Finally, the two of them managed to get Guy into the bedchamber without him crashing down the stairs. Allan lifted Guy's sluggish arm from atop him, "I'll be goin' back to sleep now. I aint gonna get 'im ready for bed." At the murderous look he received from Marian, Allan shrugged his stiff shoulders, "You're the one who wanted him back." Allan closed the door as he quit the room, thankful it was over for the night and praying that morning didn't come quite as soon as he expected.

Guy sat on the bed; his head turned to the side, eyes down. He refused to meet Marian's accusatory stare. All traces of drunken mirth having dissipated at the Trip, Guy felt more composed than he had for some time. Still his head felt hazy as if someone had wrapped a blanket around his thoughts. He gave his head a shake, it made it ache and the room spun wildly as did his stomach.

Marian felt slightly mollified when she saw him wince. "Where were you?" she demanded for the second time that night.

He still refused to look her way, "Isn't that obvious?" There was a hint of a snarl in his words as he stared at the blank wall.

"I suppose it is. But I thought you would be man enough to tell me."

Guy stood so fast that he almost lost his balance, "Man enough? You caused this by your self-righteous vindic-vindictiveness." After stuttering about his words nearly lost all meaning. Nearly…

Her hands fell from her hips and lay at her sides. He was right and Marian knew it. Although her pride prevented her from admitting it aloud. She feared that if she gave into him consistently that he would come to expect it even when he was in the wrong. It was easier to be angry with him - that way she didn't have to feel too much. The less she felt about him or Robin the less complicated her heart became.

Nevertheless, seeing him looking away from her made her anger dissipate. She couldn't help but feel. Forcefully she whipped off her shawl and tossed it at the foot of the bed. "Go to sleep."

Guy's expression grew puzzled at her command, "Why?"

Marian turned the bedcovers down, "Because you're drunk and I don't want you to pass out on the floor."

His lips upturned in an amused smirk, "You do care." Guy suddenly felt exhausted; the strain of their fight and the past several nights had taken their toll on him. It was all he could do to get his boots off before he fell into bed. As if from a distance his mind told him that some of his fatigue could be due to his large intake of alcohol earlier - though he tried to dismiss that minor detail.

It did not take Guy long to fall asleep. Marian's eyes were fixated on him as he drifted off. She winced as he moaned and yet part of her hoped that his head pained him. He deserved it for getting inebriated.

Marian also felt sorry for him. She hoped that part of his escapade tonight was that he felt troubled by what the Sheriff might be calling on him to do. Marian shuddered at the last thought. The answer to many might seem black and white - right and wrong - without question. But Marian knew what type of man she had married and she knew what was expected of him. His choices never were so plain and simple. Everything is a choice - and sometimes everyone made one that they lived to regret… In the near future Marian knew she would learn which of _her_ choices would be lamentable. Until then - she would have to try harder to make the most of her situation and her husband's. Not that she wouldn't play the Sheriff at his own game.

It did give her a spark of gladness that Guy had come to bid her farewell. At least he had considered her feelings; and that thought alone echoed around her being like a thunderclap. However the fact remained that he was supporting the Sheriff and King Richard would not take kindly to Guy's difference of opinion - especially if that involved the killing of the King's son. She felt pained to remember, as she lay next to her fitful husband, that the King would execute any whom he found to be traitorous. Moreover, the sad consolation that Robin would still be there for her plagued her nightmares and haunted her dreams. No amount of interceding on her part would save her husband from a dastardly fate.

Guy couldn't stop his erratic slumber. The drink had gone to his head and he tossed and turned uncomfortably. Gently Marian ran her hand over his face, soothing him. Guy's troubled sleep eased as she continued her calming ministrations. She sighed and leaning over, kissed his forehead. Guy twitched but did not wake, a fact for which Marian was everlastingly grateful. She did not want him to see her open display of affection. His ignorance was her bliss.

She eased herself down and held her pillow, moving a strand of hair out of her husband's face. He had relaxed and his breathing had a rhythmic hum. She exhaled and watched Guy continue to sleep. It wasn't often that he looked so peaceful. She vowed to remember him like this - this could be the last time she saw him calm. She wanted to keep the good memories for when King Richard returned the last memory she would have would be of him convulsing on a scaffold…

* * *

><p>Robin sat on a log by the fire mulling over his options. How could he get the boy out? Will had been to the castle when the sky was just growing dark and had reported more guards than usual. These were extra precautions for the Prince's visit.<p>

It would be far riskier to brave the castle. Not necessarily to himself or even his men but usually their exits were hasty at best - how would they be able to get a child safely out under those circumstances? An injured one at that?

Much took the seat next to him and though he didn't say anything and only stared into the fire along with Robin - the latter found his presence to be most helpful and comforting.

Robin knew that time was running short. It wouldn't take Prince John long to decide to do away with his nephew - unless he wanted to make a game of the boy's fear and misery. That was still a possibility and Robin feared it far worse than if the Prince would order an immediate execution. At least the lad wouldn't be forced to suffer the mental anguish of considering his fate. Though more than likely, the lad had already thought about his future at length.

Plucking a stick from the ground, Much stirred the fire. The flames jumped back into life and the sparks reflected in Robin's contemplative eyes. The smoke made his nose sting and run, and he wiped at it quickly. Tomorrow Robin would see Marian and be as near to her as he would allow himself. And tomorrow he would ask for her help in saving the child. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough…

* * *

><p>Meanwhile in another dark corner of the world lay a small, frail, figure slightly curled in on himself. This was a different position from where he had lain flat on his back a few hours ago. Philip had woken from his lifeless sleep and tried to stand. His head was far too wounded and impaired for him to accomplish this feat and he crumpled back to the stone in a fit of vomiting.<p>

Slumping onto his side, Philip wiped his mouth on his sleeve and gagged again at the sour stench. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, fighting to remember what led him to this place. He did remember running through the forest but then - nothing. Groaning he tried not to think anymore. He didn't want to dwell on the prospect of his uncle plotting his death or think about how that death would take place. He didn't even wish to think on any of the kindness his captor's had shown him. Kindness made it hurt all the more.

* * *

><p><em>AN - Greetings! Sorry this chapter is so short but it kinda needed to be done. Next time Robin will visit Marian and Guy will find out something that he would rather not have. Allan will have a larger role and he and Spencer will have a few more issues… ;) Plus there will be a little bit of Vaisey in the next chapter. (Dunno if that is a good thing or not. ;) ) I do hope that everyone was in character and that I am not just repeating myself. I feel that emotions are a very important part of the story and that any personal or inner conflict cannot just be forgotten, ignored, or miraculously changed. Hope that made sense… I promise that the next chapter will get the plot moving more. I swear it!_

_Also I hope that Guy's couple hiccups were not too childish/stupid... I thought that they added some levity to the chapter but I didn't want to make them a large part of it... Hopefully they added just the right note of humor and didn't take away from the story... I hope. *gulp* Good grief - I think I'm more nervous about that than anything..._

_I would also like to thank my anonymous reviewers - I really do enjoy hearing from you and am sorry that I cannot tell you personally but I want you to know how much I appreciate your feedback. _


	18. Machinations

_Machinations _

Guy lay face down. His pillow was crumpled under his head and the bedclothes were rumpled and tangled about his legs. His sleep had been a bad one. His drink had gone to his head and resided there well into the night, adding to his fitful slumber.

Though his eyes remained closed, Guy was just starting to become aware. Marian stroked his cheek gently and Guy resisted the urge to open his eyes lest he spoil the moment. He was afraid that if he let on that he was awake, she would stop. He lay still for several more minutes enjoying the attention that his wife was paying him. He reminded himself to become ill more often - she usually paid him heed then.

He could feel her breath, she was so close. It was warm and sweet, like mint. How he longed to kiss her! To feel her lips on his, submitting willingly to his touch. Guy couldn't think on anything more pleasurable. He contained himself, it would be well worth the wait to have her attentions at present.

Giving a hint of a smile, Guy opened his eyes and there with a grin wider than any he had ever seen - was Sheriff Vaisey.

With a jerk, Guy scrambled to the far end of the bed. The humiliation crept across his features like a glowing candle. He quickly wiped his face with his hand trying to wake up and get the feeling of Vaisey's crawling fingers off his skin.

"Wakey, wakey," Vaisey said, leaning down and pressing his elbows to the wrinkled bedclothes, his hands pushed up under his chin. "You look tired Gisborne. Your appetites getting the better of you?"

When there was no response from Guy, Vaisey continued, "Or maybe you're just busy trying to cover over Winchester's progeny. Won't work you know." Vaisey stood and ran his finger along the side of the bed, inspecting it afterwards as if looking for dust. He raised his eyebrows as Guy grumbled something unintelligible to himself. "I know you better than you know yourself, Gisborne. Surely, your wife has quickened. You might be able to fool everyone else but you and I," Vaisey flipped his finger back and forth between himself and Guy, "You and I know different. Don't we?"

Guy struggled out of bed, kicking the sheets to the side as he did so, "Was your reason for coming to discuss my marriage?"

Examining his fingernails the Sheriff said, "Actually - it is for a far grander reason." He bit an uneven nail and spit the remains towards Guy, "You have yet to arrive at the castle. Being as concerned for your welfare as I am, I stopped by hoping to find you had died in your sleep, dismounted your horse improperly and broken your back - even gotten a bloody hangnail!" He had leaned against the bed again, his wrath obvious in the pitch of his voice.

Reflexively, Guy recoiled. His eyes darted to the closed door expecting Marian, or at least Allan, to burst through at any moment. Nothing. Not even the creak of a step.

Taking several quick steps around the bed frame, ever closer to Guy, Vaisey continued, "But no. I find you in bed." He was calmer now but Guy knew that was just as, if not more, dangerous. "Can you tell me why, Gisborne?"

Guy stood silent, crossing his arms over the shirt that was beginning to cling uncomfortably to his shoulders and back. He fastened his eyes onto the Sheriff's own. His heart beat a dull tone deep in his chest so hard and slow that it made him ache. "Did you leave Spencer to guard the Prince?" He did not intend to answer to the Sheriff for his crimes and came to the decision that it would be in his best interests to change the subject.

"Obviously. They are waiting for you impatiently. As is - I believe - your wife. Unexpected company certainly does tax a person. Especially one in such a - ah - delicate situation as she."

Guy furrowed his brow before his eyes widened, "Prince John is here?"

"How bright you are. Yes. Indeed. This very moment."

Guy cursed and snatched up his jacket forcefully, ramming his arms through the sleeves. This was not what he needed. The Sheriff was trying to control him, push him, taunt him. This intrusion would only serve to drive Marian away. And she was already so far gone from him as it was. As Guy yanked open the door, he swore he could almost hear Vaisey behind him remark on how interesting the situation was turning out to be…

* * *

><p>Marian stood at the side of the table, her eyes traveling between the Prince, nursing the chalice that had been set before him, and her father who sat across from him with a blanket draped around his bony shoulders. Sir Spencer stood not too far away from her. He was leaned against the doorframe with his arms over his chest and head tilted back. She didn't like the way he was looking at her. It sent chills down her spine.<p>

Prince John ran a finger along the rim of his drink; his head was cocked as he blinked back at Edward. He squinted at the older man, his lips curling back as he did so, "Do you love me, _Edmond_?"

Marian bit back a sharp retort. The Prince was the reason that her father was no longer Sheriff. The reason that Nottingham was in such poor straits. And in a round about way - the reason that Robin was an outlaw and that she was married to Guy. Only for Guy's sake did she remain quiet. Though an alliance with the Prince would not bode well when the King returned, if that day never came this union would be a protection. She had to remember that.

Edward took a shaky breath, "I do, your Highness." The forced smile flickered and he quickly glanced down at his hands resting on the edge of the table.

Prince John stared at the former Sheriff, as if he didn't quite accept Edward's words as an unquestionable truth. Lifting his chalice to eye level the Prince looked it over with a bored, disinterested gaze - as if trying to mask his true thoughts.

Allan hung in the shadows. He was keeping an eye on the goings on; it was his unspoken job to protect Marian. Even if it wasn't for Guy and Robin, she was his friend - if he dare use so open a word - and he would watch her back. Lurking behind Spencer, Allan watched him roll his shoulders. Observing the muscles of his back, this called to mind why his nose had hurt so distinctly…

It wasn't until Spencer left his post and took two long legged paces further into the room - closer to Marian - that Allan moved silently to the other side of her. He gave a curt nod in Marian's direction but no one could have said for certain that he was blatantly addressing the Prince secondly.

"Highness," Allan said bowing his head slightly, if only so that it wouldn't be assumed that he was quite as disrespectful as he really was. He didn't like it when people barged in uninvited. He tolerated it even less when he personally disliked the set. All he could keep thinking about was that boy in the dungeon.

Spencer turned his attention to Allan, glowering as he did so. His glance didn't linger and he looked back to Marian. His eyes loitered about her but his stare was blank as if he was concentrating on something only visible to the imagination. The smile that traced his lips was unnerving. Too serene. Too pleased. Too confident… Allan took another step towards Marian.

Marian felt the chill race down her spine again. Her stomach turned and twisted. However, it seemed to have been doing that since the Prince and his entourage walked through the door that morning. It was almost getting unbearable.

The entire party turned to the stairs as they heard the bedroom door slam shut. Within a moment, Guy was seen on the staircase. He paused and looked over the edge of the railing, screwing his eyes closed immediately after. Sucking in a mouthful of air, he strode down the stairs. "Your Majesty," he bowed when he finished his descent.

Prince John pushed his chair away from the table and stood, not out of respect but because he wanted to scrutinize Guy. "Sir Guy," he said, dipping his head closer to Gisborne's person.

Guy stiffened; the feeling of his personal space being invaded unsettled him. His eyes took on a confused look as he stood still for the Prince's unprecedented inspection. He met Marian's expression and she looked just as taken aback as he felt.

There was another creek on the stairs as Vaisey gently took one-step at a time. "You were wrong, Sheriff," Prince John commented offhandedly. "He's not decaying. Seems quite well as a matter of fact."

Vaisey smiled, "Yes. Yes he does." He clapped his hands together, "Well, now that we've located the prodigal son - saddle up, Gisborne."

"Milord?"

"We are taking the Prince on a tour of the shire so he can meet some of his adoring nation. So saddle up. Now!" Vaisey did not appear to take kindly to Guy questioning him.

If anything - Guy did not feel like accompanying them on the Prince's day out. What he passionately wanted to do was go back to his bed. Then he wanted to find out exactly how he arrived home - that memory was hazy at best… What he did remember was the fight that he and Marian had the previous night. That stung like a hard whipping. The balm of time hadn't yet soothed the lines and Guy wasn't sure if he needed to bother coming home tonight.

Unable to stall for time, he shot an apologetic look at Marian, obediently following the Sheriff as the intruders left. The Prince smiled broadly and waved over his shoulder. Allan repressed a gag and moved to sit down at the Prince's vacated seat.

"Allan!" Guy yelled back into the room, his voice held no room for argument and even though no direct command was uttered, no one could doubt what he meant.

Begrudgingly Allan stood and forced himself to walk out the door and into yet another hellish day… Surely he deserved some shred of credit for dragging Gisborne's sorry, inebriated carcass home. Not that he would be the one to bring that up to Guy's face.

* * *

><p>Marian eased into the seat Allan had only just been occupying. She leaned across the table and took her father's hand. Though they did not always see eye-to-eye, Marian wanted to relieve the sting that Prince John's presence had inflicted.<p>

She felt sick and her stomach rolled and heaved in protest. Not only had they entered her home without permission, they trespassed into her bedchamber, and disturbed her as well as her father's peace of mind. What angered her most was there was nothing she could do or say that would make a difference in the situation. She had to remain voiceless - for her husband's sake.

Suddenly there seemed a shroud lifted from before her eyes. If the Prince was here… She felt like she needed to run, hide, and fight all at once. A disagreeable taste rested on her palate and her stomach twined in a nauseating sensation. If the Prince was here - the boy might be as well.

Suppressing the feeling of vomiting, Marian pressed her hand to her mouth. What if it was too late? What if Guy had killed him already? She shuddered, thinking that she had lain next to him just that night, not even considering that his hands might be bloodied with that of a child.

She pushed that thought down along with the bile rushing to her mouth. Swallowing she said, "I'm going upstairs, Father."

Standing slowly, Edward eased away from the table, "What's wrong?"

Marian felt light-headed as she faked a smile, "I just feel tired - that's all."

* * *

><p>Robin silently leaned against the trunk of a tree. His feet were set tightly, one in front of the other as he balanced on the branch holding his weight. He inclined his head to the right, looking down at the path below him. Underneath him, he watched the procession of horses and a carriage as they lurched along the trail.<p>

He wondered why they would be so willing to risk travel through the woods after the warning he had given them the last time they interloped. However, he had never given the Sheriff or Gisborne credit for intelligence. It ended up not surprising him after all. "You think this is wise?" he shouted to the air. No risk. They would never see him.

Guy tugged his horse to a stop and the soft squall that came from the inside of the carriage was obviously from the Prince. Scanning the trees, Guy suppressed a snarl. Of course Hood would come just now. His day seemed to be spiraling down into the depths of hell and it was only morning.

The disembodied voice rang through the forest again, "Where's your human shield, Allan?" Though he knew they would not be parading Philip through the shire, Robin hoped to glean some information from them as to whether or not he was still alive. If Gisborne had killed that boy… Robin fingered his bow. Whether or no Marian cared for him, Robin would not let that go unpunished.

Allan's face was hard. His lips were set in a straight line and he looked to the ground unable to face Robin. His disgrace was noticeable and there was no hiding it.

"Why don't you come out and play, Hood?" Vaisey said, walking his horse closer to his own human shield - Gisborne.

Robin laughed. "I would but you don't play fair."

Smiling, Vaisey continued, "Ah - but don't you want to come and pay proper respect to your sovereign?"

He cringed and swore to himself that Prince John would never be his sovereign. Not even if - God forbid - King Richard met his end by the sword. Morbid thought as that was, it gave him a good idea… "Of course I'll pay my respects. At his funeral."

Prince John poked his head out of the carriage window, "Outrage! Catch that infidel and hang him!"

"Oi," Allan said. "I'm pretty sure 'e believes in God." Both Guy and Spencer turned to look at him, both questioning the fact that he knew that had been the improper use of the word. They also questioned his intellect at correcting the Prince. Allan shrugged and his brow wrinkled upwards. "He fought in the 'Oly land after all."

"I know," Prince John wined, "But he doesn't believe in _**me**_!"

Somehow, Allan didn't think that it made the difference…

Shaking his head in amusement, Robin noiselessly slid down from his perch, disappearing into the depths of the forest - leaving them all to gawk after him. He wondered how long it would take them to figure out that he was already gone. He could tell them - but where would be the fun in that?

* * *

><p>Guy's breath felt hot and heavy in his throat. How badly he wanted to turn his horse around and go back to his wife. He wasn't sure if he could knowingly leave her with Robin in the area. What if - what if he rendezvoused with her? Guy knew that she had feelings for him once and he could not be persuaded that she didn't retain any of those emotions. He knew better than that.<p>

He eased his breathing. No - Marian would not betray him like that. She would not dally with Hood. She wouldn't…

* * *

><p>Upstairs Marian held a hand to her stomach hoping that the churning would settle. The secrets Guy was keeping made her sick. The only reason she knew of all this was from spying on him. If he found that out, the rift would widen between them. A rift that she was slowly trying to close - though her pride made it difficult for her. As hard as she fought against it, she knew that he cared and she cared for him. The thought of his disappointment made her flush.<p>

She felt even more unfaithful as she reached behind the shield above the bed and pulled out a green scarf, soft with age and use. Crossing the room, she tied the cloth to the shutter and let it blow in the air. A smokeless, signal fire.

When Robin finally broke the tree line and approached Locksley his heart pounded. There was his scarf dancing in the wind. She wanted to see him. He didn't have a care in the world as he deftly scaled the trellis and swung into the room.

Marian jumped backwards. She hadn't been expecting him so soon. It gave her a slightly uneasy feeling - had he been watching her all morning?

Robin sensing that he startled her, apologized, "I should have announced myself."

"Yes. You should." As much as she wished to be alone this morning, she also desperately wanted to be comforted. And his mere presence put her at ease.

He looked chagrined, "You wanted to see me?" Beyond thrilled as he was, he was also anxious. It seemed that Gisborne had not harmed her in anyway but that was part of the reason that he had given Marian this means to contact him. In case.

"Prince John is here. He was here this morning with the Sheriff. The boy might be in Nottingham already."

"I happened upon them in Sherwood - when they were heading towards the castle."

Marian narrowed her eyes, "And you didn't tell me?"

"It was only the other day - I hadn't a chance, Marian!"

"Then I suppose you know about the boy?"

"He was with them. I just pray that he is still alive. He didn't look well."

Marian looked away and said her own silent prayer to God asking that the boy remain safe and not be murdered - especially by her husband…

Robin took a step forward, "I came to ask for your help." He licked his lips, "I'll need it to get the boy out."

"Why do you even ask? Didn't I tell you of the Sheriff's plans in the beginning?" Her hands flew to her hips as she spoke. Why did he have to be so infuriating?

The corners of Robin's lips tugged back in a grimace, "In your situation, I didn't want to presume. The information I need may come at a price." He hated asking this of her. He could only hope that if Guy found out that he would be able to save her from her husband's wrath.

"I'll do whatever I can. You know that." She walked in Robin's direction and let her hands fall from her sides, "What do you need me to do?"

* * *

><p>"What a pleasant spring day," said Prince John from inside the carriage as it bounced along the dusty road. "My brother, Richard, doesn't quite care for England's climate but I find that I rather enjoy it. I prefer it over France's weather any day."<p>

The Prince turned to Guy, "I hear from the Sheriff that your mother was French. True?"

Guy nodded solemnly, "It is, your Grace."

Only Guy heard Spencer - he was in fact the only one meant to. "I heard that French women are all whores." If it were not for Spencer, swiveling his head to look directly at Guy upon making this statement and for the fact that it was aimed at his dead mother - Guy would have tried harder to turn the other cheek. In this case, he didn't bother to try at all.

Guy was still astride his horse when all the others had dismounted to inspect Nettlestone. As Spencer sauntered past him, Guy reached down and took a fistful of Sir Spencer's shoulder length, bronze hair. He yanked back on his prize, "If you ever speak of my mother again I'll work my sword between your ribs and up through your mouth and I'll cut your tongue out from the inside." Guy loosened his grip and Spencer tried to pull away only to find Guy retighten his hold and tug back, "Do you hear?"

When Spencer made no response, Guy jerked upwards, "I said, 'do you hear?'"

Nodding made several more of the fine hairs rip out of his scalp. Spencer felt his teeth clench and his lips parted in a wince of pain. He stumbled forward when Guy shoved him away. When he looked back at Guy, he focused all the hate he had for him in his gaze. He felt his hand on the pommel of his blade. Sucking air between his teeth he removed his hand from his sword, he had to bide his time.

* * *

><p>Allan was standing in the shadows. It seemed that was his place in life. He rued not being liked by the people; when he was with Robin, everyone at least cared about his presence. Now - well, now he wanted to hide. To disappear behind the others and live the life of a ghost. Though he was certain that the healer woman would assist him to that end quick enough, he decided against it…<p>

The people of Nettlestone eyed him warily. Even with the hushed whispers having all but ceased in his time as Guy's man, he still felt the sting in their looks and unspoken words. He stood behind Gisborne, keeping his head held high but his eyes down.

Spencer watched Allan with a curiosity that he could not place. From Sir Spencer's standpoint, Allan had gained, rather than lost. He was no longer an outlaw and had a position of authority. People feared him. They respected his power. Despite this prominence, he did not seem to relish the superiority of his circumstances.

"Do you hope to earn favor with the people by playing at humility?"

Allan met his eyes and made a short disgusted sound, "Ya know - you're a lot stupider than you look."

Sir Spencer blinked once, then twice. It was then that the realization of what Allan had said hit him. His teeth clenched tightly and his mouth transformed into a snarl. What should have taken three strides, Spencer made in one and lunged for him.

Allan had been waiting for him this time and easily ducked his enemy's clutches. He snickered as Spencer was forced to regain his balance after he swiped the air.

Guy made it a point to look away. He was not at all interested in saving Allan's hide again when he was provoking Spencer to skin him alive. Neither was he concerned with Spencer - the man deserved whatever he received. He stood with his arms over his chest and looked to the heavens above. Surely God was not so cruel as to force him to endure yet another fight between the two?

In the end, Prince John caught the two scuffling. "What?"

Guy cringed at the slightly too high pitch of the Prince's voice. He rubbed his forehead and turned to look at Allan. Giving a shake his head, Guy stood next to the Sheriff - Allan had done it now. Shrugging his shoulders, Allan met Guy's stare - unconcerned and unabashed.

"What," the Prince repeated, "Is the meaning of this?"

"He," Spencer said, pointing at Allan as if the rest of the party were too dim-witted to know to whom he was referring. "Insulted me!"

Allan cringed, his face having felt the rush of air from his adversary's lungs. He suppressed a gag - how he wished that Spencer would chew some anise!

Prince John replied with a dry, 'Oh.' With a flick of his wrist that made the elaborate sleeve of his surcoat dance at the movement, he gestured to the Sheriff, "Settle it."

Guy's stomach knotted and by the look on Allan's face he was almost certain that his did as well. What would the Sheriff do? Guy knew that he held no love for Allan. He was disposable. Would he arrange for him to be done away with now?

"What would you care to see, your Highness?" Vaisey said, leering in the direction of Allan. Who to him, was not worth the trouble he caused, Hood's former man and their informant or no…

"Have him apologize so we can be on with it!"

Despite his being crestfallen, Vaisey took the Prince's words at face value, "You heard him. Apologize!"

His grin encompassing his entire face, Allan turned to Spencer and capitulated to the Sheriff's demand. Well - as well as could be expected from Allan… "I'm sorry you're like the way you are."

How quickly and smoothly the words came out, gave Guy the suspicion that he had been practicing and saving that particular innocent insult for quite some time. Either that or Allan was quicker than even he gave him credit for.

Spencer's mouth dropped agape for but a moment. Only he cared that he had just been insulted again. The Sheriff muttered a terse 'good' and left him standing there like a fool. Not willing to risk the censure of being childish, Spencer growled to himself but refused to call Allan out. One day. One day he would have his revenge. Oh, how sweet he intended to make it.

* * *

><p>Marian tried to remain calm. Over and over she kept telling herself that getting angry would only cause the day to end badly. And she managed for a time. Managed quite well in fact. When Guy pushed past Thornton and headed for the buttery, Marian took a deep breath and followed him as he poured a chalice full of burgundy liquid. It didn't take him long to drain his drink and Marian stood patiently by and waited for him to acknowledge her. Robin needed information about the guards. He needed her to find out the rotations and routines for the guarding of the King's son.<p>

Bleary eyed, Guy turned to her and an unnatural smile softened his features. The smile didn't last long for he sighed and began to trudge to the stairs. "Don't hold supper."

Her heart felt as though a rock had evicted it and taken up residence in its place. Every step she took made her ask the silent question: did he kill the boy today? Every creak spoke to her and every sound, including the silence, seemed to echo this very worry. Had he? Her hope of being able to change him felt as if it was slowly dieing with this query.

"Is Allan at the castle guarding?" She cursed herself - it came out all wrong. Contrived, out of place, too much too soon.

Guy paused on the last step and turned back to face her, "Why should he be?"

Her words were rushed, "I thought - with the Prince here - that he would have extra duties."

Suspicious, Guy's brow wrinkled, "No." He turned around and continued to the bedchamber.

Marian bit her lip - hard enough that she knew she put an indent in the soft flesh from where her teeth pressed down. "But there are extra duties?"

Guy stopped, "What's this about, Marian?"

She looked as innocent as she could, "Nothing. I was just wondering."

"Care will kill a cat," Guy said. His words were flat but his eyes asked questions - questions that Marian did not want to answer.

Marian kept silent and followed Guy as he entered their room. She tried to keep her eyes focused on the rest of the chamber while he stripped down to his braies. She found the bright yellow of Guy's shield above the bed frame to be most distracting.

"Go back down and eat," Guy said, pulling back the blanket. His eyes were tired and he needed to shave. Marian could feel her own jaw line tickle imagining the pricks of his stubble if he were to kiss her. She couldn't reconcile with herself if the thought appealed to her or made her cringe.

"Why don't _you_?" She gripped her elbows, her arms tightly over her chest.

"I don't care to," was the reply she received - short as it was. Seeing her perturbed face, Guy's eyes grew gentle, "The day went badly." He crossed the room and laid a hand on her cheek. "Spencer behaved like the pig he is." His words were such a sharp contrast to his tender action that Marian couldn't fathom the twain being done at once. She dared not show it though - he was opening up and the more open he was the easier it would be to extract information… Although if he _was_ letting her in, she would also hate herself all the more for deceiving him of her true intentions.

"What happened?" Marian asked. Her words were silver-tongued and Guy fell into them, relating the insult that Spencer had used to darken his mother's memory. What made it sting more for Guy, was not the fact that it was an outrageous lie but that it had a ring of truth to it. That is what made it unbearable.

The way Marian responded shocked Guy. He doubted that she could even remember his mother and yet the look of hate that overtook her face gave him a small thrill. She was on his side in something at least.

Marian herself felt the deep seed of anger sprout in the pit of her stomach and grow till it was bursting from between her lungs. She knew herself the pang of sorrow that loosing a mother could bring and she held all that her mother was dear. To see that memory tarnished would be worse than if someone had slapped her. To hear that Guy's mother had been insulted infuriated her. She imagined how she would feel if he had spoken so of the woman who gave her birth.

This woman - a woman who she might have one day called mother - had done no wrong. How dare Spencer speak so of the dead! Her nostrils flared and her mouth felt tight. It took only a moment for her to recall the anger she had felt when the Prince was tormenting her father and she felt a renewed vigor. Desperately she wanted to lash out at something. Though she had only known him for a brief period and had hardly spoken to him, Marian despised Sir Spencer. "If that boy comes to harm at his hand-"

Too late did she catch her blunder. Guy's head snapped to her and he stared unbelieving at her, "Boy? What boy?"

The irrational anger receded almost as quickly as it had come. Marian worried at her lip. Guy was right - care did kill the cat… "I - I misspoke."

Guy snorted and chuckled to himself, an action that was even more unsettling than Marian would have cared to admit. His voice was slow and steady, "When?"

"When what?" Marian whispered, all the bravado had been displaced from her and she desperately wished that she could go back and slice her words out of the air between them. Air that was too thick and stale now - hot and smothering.

"When did you learn about the boy?" He didn't seem angry, in fact, he seemed hurt. It was the hurt in his eyes that made Marian feel as if he had stabbed her. She would do anything to leave at this very moment.

When she made no effort to respond Guy nodded slowly, "You were spying on me." He felt hot on the outside. Flushed and burning as if he were in the Holy Land again and the hot sands were spilling into his boots and down the back of his sweat soaked shirt. But on the inside, he felt cold. An icy, uncaring cold that traveled through every vein in his body.

Enraged he snatched his shirt, jacket, and breeches from where they lay. Roughly, he put them back on, completely ignoring his wife's continued presence in the room. He donned his long coat also, for the nights still held a chill to them. With that, Guy stalked out of the chamber and let the door slam after him. Though it might seem that he was planning to take up where he had left off at the Trip - that really was the furthest thing from his mind.

* * *

><p>Marian stood bewildered in the middle of the room. One moment she was defending Guy's family and the next he was gone. Her carelessness had seen to that… She had distanced her husband yet again, this time completely unintentional. It also meant that the information she needed to acquire for Robin, would have to be attained in a far more complicated manner. However, at the moment, she found that she really didn't care.<p>

Hastily her astonishment began to give way to anger. She tried to be quick to blame him but it was useless - she knew where the culpability lay. "Damn!" She spun around and bolted out the door and down the stairs - thankful that Guy hadn't heard her blasphemy. Even if he was more than guilty of his own.

"Guy!" she called halfway down the steps. "Guy!"

He was almost to the door but he stopped and looked up at her. His eyes were wounded and Marian felt her heart skip a beat. She wished, as she had before, that they would cease fighting. She was tired of provoking him and then feeling guilty about it - even if this time was only caused by a slip of her tongue. Coming to meet him, she said, "Guy, I'm sorry. I did spy on you. But I felt I had to."

"And just now? You were trying to get me to tell you something. Something that could get me killed."

She flinched. There was no denying it. "I want - I want to help the boy."

"No - you want to save him. You can't."

"Surely there is a way."

"There's not. The only way he's going to get out of here is in a bag, slung over the back of a horse." Even as he said the words, Guy felt sick. His own mind repeated Marian's words - surely, there is a way?Nevertheless, if there was - he could not see it. He would have to look into Philip's face and pronounce himself the liar that the boy accused him of being. Guy felt as if he needed to swallow back his wine again but could not.

It also plagued him that he had known. From almost the moment Hood acknowledge the fact that Philip was here, he had known that Marian, his wife, had told him. She had to have. There was no getting past it. Yet he so badly wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. "Did you tell Hood?" he asked, shutting his eyes and tilting his head back as if preparing himself for the oncoming blow. What else had she willing given to him besides information?

"What?" Marian was still recovering from the way he had depicted the boy's death. It had left her stomach twisting again - she had hoped she was done with that.

"Did you tell my enemy about the boy?"

She felt a sweat break out along her lip. She had done so much already - caused him more pain than anyone should have to face in one night. How could she confess to this crime too? Steadily Marian looked him in the eye, "No."

Guy felt his lips quiver in a small prayer of thanks. Though his entire being wanted to believe her, one small, dark, distrusting part of him still harbored doubt. He hurried to bury it. Push it as far down as it would go and leave it there till judgment day.

Without saying another word, Guy bent down and kissed her forehead. Quietly he turned to the door again and opened it, revealing the darkening landscape.

"Where are you going?" Marian asked, her unmasked surprise coated the words. She had thought that her apology would make him stay. He couldn't still be angry - could he?

"There's something I need to do," Guy said. His blue eyes trained on her now and Marian could feel the affection in them. Somehow, the fact that she had rectified the argument made her feel lighter, as if there was air between her feet and the wooden floor. She had reconciled with him straight away and that seemed to make a difference to her. It was far better then letting the anger stew in her blood for hours. However, after Guy stooped and kissed her again, this time on her lips and left, Marian stood alone with the fact that she had lied to him. She hung her head in shame…

* * *

><p>Allan sat in the Trip, three cups splayed out before him. Under one of them was a coin and only he knew which. He had made a tidy sum by now. Each coin had carefully found its way to a money pouch lying on the bench next to his leg.<p>

Allan smiled cheerfully as the man in front of him chose the wrong cup for the second time, "Sorry mate. Go again?" He wet his lips as the fool dug around in his breeches for a third coin. His tongue was still just barely creeping out of the corner of his mouth when he felt a hand tug up on his vest and force him backwards out of his seat.

Guy's voice hissed in his ear, "Come on. We're going to the castle." Before Allan even had a chance to react in word or deed, Guy had propelled him out of the Trip - leaving his earnings to the wind. And though wordlessly they might call out his name, Allan A Dale would never have the chance to go back and retrieve his neglected sum.

* * *

><p>Quietly Guy and Allan slid through the corridors, trying to stay out of sight. Upon reaching the dungeon, Guy held a finger to his lips. Allan held back and waited while Guy moved forward. Two castle guards stood at attention. Guy dismissed them without a word. They left quickly without questioning their superior. It appeared that he had come to relieve them early and who were they to ask otherwise? Being desirous of a hot meal and seeing their wives, they were perfectly content in believing that they were done - erroneous as it might be.<p>

"What's this about?" Allan asked stepping forward.

"I need you to stay here and keep watch."

"What for?" Allan demanded. He was not about to be forced here and then given a menial task.

"Do I have to say it again?" Guy's voice was a low growl.

Allan narrowed his eyes, "But why couldn't they watch the door for ya?" He tilted his head in the direction the guards went.

"Because, I don't want to be spied upon." _Again…_

Allan scoffed and then felt a shiver race down his back, "Wha' are you planning on doing?" He instantly feared that Guy might be going to kill the boy right here, right now. Whether to save the child pain and dread he did not know - nor did it matter. Allan wasn't sure if he could stand by and let that happen…

Ignoring Allan's question, Guy pulled open the heavy door and started down the stone steps, his boots clinking after him. The relative silence was welcome after Allan's myriad of questions. It was dim in the dungeon and Guy had to adjust to the darkness quickly or risk tumbling down the stairs. A pastime he didn't wish to repeat.

* * *

><p>Allan was left standing bewildered and alone. He turned his back to the door and ran a distressed hand through his hair, puffing out his cheeks in response to the anxiety he felt. How could he let this happen? He kept trying to reassure himself that Guy wouldn't act without the Prince's instruction. Still more, the Prince might not even use Guy to execute his nephew. No. It was no execution. No hardened criminal waited to dance upon the hempen rope. It was murder. Murder of a child - a mere boy. His stomach felt as though it had dropped into his boots. What was he to do?<p>

* * *

><p>Guy kept to the center of the walkway; he didn't want any grubby, reaching hands to grab at his leathers as he walked past. In the faint light, Guy noticed the shadow that his figure cut as he walked to the far end of the dungeon. He looked menacing. He almost stopped and turned about. He tried to put himself in the lad's place and picture how he would feel if a threatening man encroached on his space in the dark of the night. He shook his head, the more he thought about Philip and what he was enduring - the more memories of his own youth he dredged up. Many of those he would like to remain hidden - like the fleeting recollections of nightmares.<p>

Not that he had been locked in a cell, waiting to die at the order of his relative no less. However, he knew what it was like to have everything and everyone taken away from you. Guy's teeth ground involuntarily and he continued past the cells - some empty, most not.

Upon approaching Philip's, he touched the bars, holding onto them as if they were his only support. Despite his thick, leather gloves, he could still feel the cold creeping into his fingers and causing them to stiffen. "Boy," Guy said without ceremony, lowering his head so that it nearly leaned against the dirty, bitter bars. "Are you awake?" He almost considered asking if he was alive but decided against it.

Guy heard a shuffling sound from the darkness before a small figure staggered over to him. Grimacing, Guy tried to look past the pitiful state of Philip and concentrate on the bars separating him from the boy. He need not ask how the lad felt - it was apparent he was in a bad way and if Guy could part the hair on the back of his head, he was sure the large knot would be proof thereof.

Guy stood and stared at the child for what seemed like ages. He couldn't understand what force was pulling him down here. Did he want to look into the soft eyes of his next kill? That was not what he wanted; he wanted something more he wanted to do _something_…

The Sheriff would call him weak were he caught down here. He would prance around him, pointing out his flaws - his humanity - before he told him to get some sense. Before he told him to kill the boy in cold blood. Even though Guy couldn't quite place how murdering Philip would be any different from the other heinous crimes he had already committed in the eyes of an all-seeing God - he still felt the twang of shame when he looked at the boy.

"What?" Guy said. Lost in his own thoughts, he had not heard that Philip was speaking softly to him.

The voice that came out was dry and cracking, "Do you have any water?"

Guy felt a pang of - of what? Was it guilt? Sorrow? Anger? Regret? Or all of them? Oh how he remembered the trials that he had to go through to obtain water in those early days when his home was lost to him. The simplest of things. The one you most take for granted. Even a muddy puddle had been a lifesaving resource. "No." He was sorry for the answer but it was all he had to give.

Philip turned away and Guy could still see the way he held himself erect, weak and hurt as he was. This child was dignified and he wouldn't let the situation he was in take that away from him. Guy sighed and looked down, rubbing his hand over the bar as he did. This young, frightened lad carried more worth than he did.

Guy took note of how Philip's shoulders gave a little shudder - from the cold or disappointment he could not discern. He couldn't blame him for not looking at him - Guy didn't want to face himself. The situation plagued him - he didn't even have the courage enough to help a suffering child. He was pathetic. He exhaled and smiled cynically at himself, Vaisey would be pleased…

He continued to watch as Philip lay down on the ground and curl up, bracing against the chill. The stone floor was littered with filth and the corners still held the remains of stale excrement and gore - what wretched conditions for a child. "Boy," Guy lifted his head up from where it had been leaning against the stone wall. His eyes were bright as he spoke, "Come here."

* * *

><p>Guy firmly, yet quietly closed the heavy door behind him. The next watch would be coming any moment and he knew that if they possessed any sense they wouldn't question him. Allan stood with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His chin seemed to be jutting out and he was staring Guy down.<p>

"What?" Guy asked, staring right back. Allan was not going to make him flinch.

Allan's petulant mood had gotten the better of him, "What were ya' at down there?"

"That's my concern - isn't it?"

"Did you 'arm him?"

Guy's lip twitched, "You're forgetting your place, A Dale."

"Ya' know it's wrong. By God's eye it's wrong." Allan felt his arms tremble in anger. How he wished that he were with Robin and his friends right now. He did not want to be a party to this slaughter. "Marian would find it wrong."

Guy rounded on him, "Don't tell me what _**my**_ wife thinks!" He felt an unbidden bolt of anger coursing through him, "When did you grow a bloody conscience?"

"I got one when I was 'oping you'd grow a heart!"

"You think you're so much better? Go crawl back to Hood. I'm sure he'll take you back. If only so he could slit your throat himself."

Without another word, Allan left. His insides felt as though they were bubbling. Allan knew Robin was not infallible but at this moment that was the only person Allan wanted to see. Maybe Guy was right - he was slinking back to Robin. Alas - If Guy was correct on that head, maybe he had hit the mark on his last words too. Allan rubbed his neck at the thought of Robin slicing a knife across it. He was quite fond of his throat - it had served him well.

He stormed down the hall. The very walls themselves seemed to mock him, as if they were boasting about how sturdy they were while he was crumbling inside. Turning a corner he ran into a set of guards come to take the next shift. Their hands went instantly to their swords and Allan held his hands up, palms out to appease them. Over the past few weeks he had been patiently waiting for some guard he had played a trick on or swiped something off of as an outlaw to exact revenge. Could this be the night?

He was put at ease when they recognized him as Gisborne's man, releasing the grip they had on their weapons. His Adam's apple bobbed as he gave a gulp and nodded in their direction before continuing on his way. He thought to himself as he sustained his fast pace, if they knew where he was off to - they wouldn't have let him go so painlessly.

If Allan's rage and worry for the boy had not clouded his judgment, he would have seen Guy slam his fist against the wooden door in his own anger. And if Allan had been observant, he would have noticed that Sir Guy of Gisborne - the Sheriff's cold-hearted enforcer - no longer wore his coat…

* * *

><p>Guy gently eased himself into bed that night so as not to disturb his sleeping wife. He let out of puff of air as he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. His mind wandered and he almost wished that he knew where Allan had gone. There was a part of him that didn't care to know. Whether Allan was still loyal or not was contingent on where he was at daybreak. Guy's shoulders felt heavy enough without worrying if Allan would be waiting for him or plotting with Hood. He shook his head, now was not the time to dwell on it. Tomorrow would come soon enough.<p>

He maneuvered his hands to cup the back of his head and recalled the past several hours to mind. "Thank you," Philip had said when he held the thick leather in his hands, before quickly wrapping himself into the still warm coat. It was the meek way that he said it, mild and truly thankful, that broke Guy. It was at that very moment that Guy knew that he would not be able to kill the boy. He didn't know how he would get past it but he knew that if he murdered that child he would have no humanity left in him and he would not be worth saving. He would be damned - if he wasn't already.

* * *

><p>Allan stole through the forest, muttering to himself. He wished he had taken time to make sure that the boy was all right. Guy didn't look like he had just slaughtered Philip in cold blood but that, Allan knew, did not really mean anything.<p>

Getting closer to the camp, he tread as softly as he could. The last thing he wanted to meet up with was a surprise. Therefore, when Will laid a steady hand on his shoulder, Allan jumped and nearly fell backwards into his former friend.

"What are you doing here?" Will said, his voice was muted and raspy and his grip tightened just slightly on Allan's sleeve.

"Oi, you scart' the blithering piss out'a me!"

Will narrowed his eyes and took another step closer, the remnants of fallen leaves crackling beneath his feet. "Where's Gisborne?"

"Well how should I know?"

"You work for him. You lick his boots. You're his man."

Allan would have preferred it if Will had taken his axe and chopped off his arm - it would have been better than hearing those cutting words. He refused to let that show and instead smacked his tongue between his lips - he didn't remember any boot licking… Being arrogant was far easier than showing his true feelings. "I'm here to see Robin. Gisborne's in Nottingham."

Will himself was hurt and attacking with words seemed to be his only defense. Allan - his friend, nay his brother - had betrayed them. He had fought on their side and then sold them out to a man who lived to see them dead. "And why should I take you to him?"

Allan's eyes sparkled as they always had, "Because we're mates."

Will kept his expression stony, "That's not a valid reason anymore."

Lowering his head, Allan continued, "Surely our bad blood can't last."

"If a wound is deep enough you loose what blood you had."

Using cheekiness to cover his own distress, Allan held up a finger and said, "I know a healer who could fix that."

Will rolled his eyes. "Robin won't like it."

"Sure 'e will."

"Are you so sure about that?" Both Allan and Will looked to their right and there, from behind a tree, came Robin. "What is it you want, traitor?"

* * *

><p><em>AN_

_Here it is. I swear that I will start on chapter eighteen right away! I hope you enjoyed it… I hope that Guy was believable. And see - Marian is trying really hard to make and keep peace. ;) I also hope that Allan seemed real… Next time we get to see Allan and the outlaws! _

_And Poor Marian - so sick she is. Hopefully she gets to feeling better soon… _

_I pray that Guy dealing with Philip was believable. Remember how he behaved with those three little boys he found spying on him when he was testing the Damascus steel… He __**tried**__ to help them. He didn't do a very good job but he tried… Lets give him an E for effort, shall we? _

_It is four A.M. I have been up all night. Forgive the story. It is not its fault… (it is not four A.M. now - I had to proofread over a couple of days. But I thought I would just leave this sentence the way I wrote it…)_

_As for the Guards leaving conveniently - they are Nottingham guards after all… They tend to be oblivious and the like. They would probably fall for things like "If you say gullible very slowly it sounds like green beans…" Well - you get the picture anyway… _


	19. Culpable

_Culpable_

_Silently Robin stepped from behind a tree, "What is it you want, traitor?"_

Allan felt his throat tighten in dread - he was not prepared. If he only had but a few more minutes, he could have figured out what he was going to say to Robin. His former leader looked on, his face devoid of emotion.

For the life of him, Allan couldn't call to mind why he was here in the first place. What was he thinking? Did he believe that he would just pop over and Robin would welcome him back with wide-open arms? Pretending that nothing ever happened? No. He was a fool. Guy had been right this time - Robin would end him.

Allan rubbed the back of his neck so hard he could feel the skin bunch and he was certain a layer peeled off as well, "The boy at the castle - you need to get 'im out." His throat constricted again and he waited for Robin's angry response to his unnecessary statement.

To his surprise, Robin only gave a curt nod of his head. Allan wet his lips with his tongue, "Any ideas?"

Robin gave a disgusted sort of sound, "Do you think that I would tell you my plans? Just so you could scamper off to Gisborne and tattle? Either you are a more willing pawn of his than I thought, or you're desperate to get yourself out of a scrape you've gotten into with him."

Allan felt his face warm regardless of the cool night. He swiped at it, as if running a hand down his cheek would soothe the burn. If he did in fact believe this, he was mistaken however, for the heat remained and Allan could only hope that the dark night was hiding this fact from his former friend.

"I'm not 'ere to spy."

"Oh? Well I suppose you've done enough of that to last through this lifetime well into the next. Surely your maker the devil will be pleased with all you were able to accomplish in his service."

Allan almost took a step forward. Almost wrapped his hands around Robin's neck. Almost shook him. Almost cried. Not a fretting, childish cry but one that comes from deep within, so strong and so very powerful that there is naught that can be done to stop it. Instead he took a shaky breath, "If I wanted 'ta ruin you, I'd 'ave done it. Don't think I can't tell Gisborne where this place is."

He watched Robin's upper lip shift into a sneer at his threat and he continued, his voice almost shaking, "But I wouldn't. I don't want to hurt you. I want to help the boy."

Though Robin didn't mean it, it was beyond his power to stop or even take back the words once they tumbled from his mouth, "Get Gisborne to help you."

Allan hung his head in pronounced shame, "'es part of it. I-" He hesitated, he wasn't willing to put his thoughts into words for Robin to hear, "I think he's gonna kill 'im." _Or has… _He remembered Guy being so long down in the dungeon. He imagined what he must have been doing. He felt his nostrils burn and his stomach roll with vomit. However, there was a small piece of him that doubted that Gisborne's intentions were malicious. He recalled the pains Guy had taken in carrying Philip, how Guy had not harmed the stable lad even though he could have… Why would Guy harm him? Why then?

Allan didn't want to think on this anymore. He didn't want to be here standing before Robin. All he wanted was to go home, sink into his bed, and hear the soft crunch of straw as he burrowed under the blankets. He had replaced the musty smell with his own sweat and tears. That bed was all he really had to claim now. His position wasn't as alluring to him as it once was and he secretly wished deep within himself that he had never taken that path. He wished that he had only been willing to be a small part of something larger instead of forcing himself into a place of power that stole his soul from within him.

Robin shook his head, "That's the most obvious statement you've made. Give me a reason to _**believe**_ that you are here to help us and not betray us." There was a pause in Robin's words before he continued. His voice was slightly louder this time and dripping with all the hurtful emotions that welled up inside him as he looked at Allan, "Again."

Allan felt stung, his chest hurt so violently that he was surprised when he looked down and didn't see a knife sticking out of his heart. Allan grappled with his thoughts, trying to give an answer to Robin. Nothing came to mind and he felt his heart go as numb as his tongue.

Allan's eyes grew wide for a moment - he had remembered something. Yet he didn't want to say - he wanted Robin to come to the conclusion on his own. He didn't want to use the example of him rescuing Much from Spencer to get back into Robin's good graces. It would not be the same if _**he**_ mentioned it. Not at all.

He was sorry to think that either Much had failed to reveal his part in the rescue or that Robin was choosing to overlook that good deed. He let out a puff of air that had gathered in his cheeks and shook his head. "There's nothin' to say."

Robin felt his anger rising in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know whether he was bothered by Allan refusing to give a reason or by the fact that he knew he was being harsh. But Allan had made his bed… "You are a fool if you think I'd let you come back."

Swallowing, Allan barely nodded his head in assent. He turned to Will and gave a strained, sad smile. Allan took a step, resigned to Robin's decision and then, to his shock, Will grabbed his shoulder and gave it a sympathetic squeeze before releasing him. Robin Hood stood as still and unmovable as stone - his expression unyielding and pitiless.

As he walked back through Sherwood, Allan felt the bitterness coil around his insides, choking them. He almost turned and told Robin about his role in Much's survival. Almost. Almost was too little, too late. No matter how the resentment ate at him, Allan couldn't help but feel that he had brought this upon himself. If only he hadn't been greedy then none of this would be happening! While he replayed the unfolding events leading to this in his mind's eye he saw that everywhere he turned there was avarice. The thought made him sick. Not only would God not forgive his sins - neither would his friends… Allan reasoned that the latter was worst of all; he could wait on God's judgment but his friends' had come too quickly and too powerfully. They would never fully forgive him.

The only shred of hope he had was Will's reassuring gesture. It was like a soothing balm in his stomach and he could only pray that if Will felt that way now - maybe some of the others would be able to excuse his faults too. Doubtful as it was, Allan wanted to believe it was so.

* * *

><p>Robin's jaw was set as he watched Allan's progress. When he caught Will's expression, his own softened as he remembered how Allan had been. "We can't trust him." At Will's small, silent nod Robin sighed - they couldn't trust him - could they? He shook his head. No. Of course not…<p>

* * *

><p>Marian watched from the bed as Guy put on his boots. She did not feel well and had no desire to greet the day. Her heart felt heavy and she longed to know where he had gone last night. When she had awoken in the early hours before dawn, he was next to her but she was sure countless hours had past before that. She also felt her guilt coming to find her again. She had lied to him to save herself. What would Guy do if he knew that she was still working with Robin? She was less afraid of what he would do to her, though those consequences were inevitable, than what he would do to Robin or even himself…<p>

Despite the fact that she suddenly felt ill again at the thought, she knew that she could not tell him. She couldn't cause him more grief and risk his anger in the process. Sometimes truths were best kept in the heart.

She caught Guy staring at her and looked away quickly, her previous thoughts causing a flush of heat to soak her cheeks. Didn't he know better then to trust her? She could almost justify her actions by that simple thought. If he didn't know well enough by now surely he deserved it. Immediately that thought sped out of her mind and her face grew hotter because of it. She was ashamed.

She slowly turned back to him and frowned at his state of dress. "Shouldn't you wear your coat? It's still cool out."

Guy shook his head and a far-off look entered his eyes for the briefest of moments, "I'll be fine." He rose from the edge of the bed, using his hands to push off his knees. "Besides," he continued, resting a hand on the patterned material that hung from the frame. "I won't need it later."

He remained by the bed and looked down at her, his expression was almost curious. In that moment she was sure that he knew she had lied to him - it had to be noticeable. Marian felt her body chill as she looked into his eyes. She held his gaze and felt her mouth go dry as he stared at her.

Slowly Guy bent down, leaning one hand on the bed to the far side of her. Even slower still, he touched her lips to his and kissed her. Sweet, soft, strong - Marian felt so many emotions whirl around inside that she felt dizzy. Guy pulled away and straightened, tracing his finger over her jaw line before he left the room.

She felt her lips with her fingers, running over the same spot his had been. Her innards tightened and her lie jumped at her like a tangible, predatory beast. It was not as if she hadn't lied to him before… Yet this betrayal to the man she called husband seemed to transcend all her previous falsehoods. She was almost certain that God was punishing her for lying to her mate.

As if her feet had wings, she flew out of bed and rushed to the chamber pot. It had not been dumped that morning and the odor that hung about it was foul. She gagged, pulling her hair to the side to keep any strands from falling into the sour liquid. Her nose burned and then her throat as she heaved. She tried to ignore the small splashes that her sickness caused for fear she might start gagging again. Overlooking those noises was a sad attempt and she felt the remaining contents of her stomach jerk and contract at the thought.

Once she was done, she remained on her knees, doubled over the bowl, hands pressed tightly to her twirling abdomen. Her breathing was hard and gingerly she moved one hand to her face to push the hair out of her eyes. Marian eased away from the urine and vomit and sat down on the bed, taking a shaky breath as she did.

She was cursed! God was indeed disciplining her for her treachery and she couldn't deny that she deserved it. The only hope that she had was that he would not continue to be so cruel in his sentencing.

* * *

><p>Guy didn't act surprised to find Allan in the barn though the fact remained that he truly was. He was relieved as well - he had already been thinking of what excuse he would make to the Sheriff for his absence.<p>

He came to a halt, standing over Allan, glaring down at him. Guy's arms drew over his chest and he was the picture of annoyance, "Stop lazing around in the hay. You're not a milk maid."

Allan smirked, "No but I found my fair share of 'em here."

Guy looked to the heavens and hoped that Allan asked God Almighty for forgiveness on account of his lewd tongue and mind. "Get up." His jaw was set as Allan sighed and stood, brushing the straw off his breeches.

Allan felt exhaustion clinging to him. All he wanted to do was sleep. He had gotten precious little of it that night having been locked out of the manor. And when he had lain down, Robin, Will, Djaq and John plagued his thoughts and dreams. Even Much made his own appearance, bent over a boiling pot of squirrel. Allan suppressed a shudder…

Not bothering to question where they were riding to, Allan obediently followed Guy. However, he really did not need to ask - the road to Nottingham was a familiar one and Allan knew they would receive no rest that day.

* * *

><p>Guy was on his way to the dungeon with Allan on his heels. There was something he needed to collect. His heart sank to the heel of his boots - not ten feet away, the Sheriff, Prince John, and Sir Spencer emerged from the dungeon. There was nothing to do now but wait. He nodded his head in a respectful greeting to the Sheriff before addressing the Prince, "Your Majesty." He bowed sloppily, for in the process he stamped hard on Allan's foot to drive the point home. Allan gave a suppressed grunt before bowing as well.<p>

To Spencer, Guy gave a look of contempt - a sneer to be precise. So full of scorn and derision that a weak man would crumple under it. Spencer merely licked his lips, thinking - plotting. Guy knew he should be more cautious but at this moment, that was the least of his worries. Had they seen his coat with the boy? If they had, what would they do?

Vaisey tilted his head off to the side in a look of contemplation, "Sir Spencer found something _peculiar_ in Philip's cell." He put his hands behind his back and clamped his fingers over the wrist of his left hand. Singling Guy out, he began to stroll around him at a leisurely pace.

Guy felt the Sheriff's narrowed eyes burning into his back. He shivered. It was worse than if a pack of ravenous wolves were circling him. At least with them he knew what he was up against. With the Sheriff, he never knew where he stood when he was angry. He never knew what that man would do. Guy kept his shoulders stiff as he held his arms rigid at his sides.

Vaisey tapped a finger to his lips, "Do you have any idea what he could have happened across? Shoved in a dark corner - almost didn't see it. Black you know."

Guy remained motionless. There was no doubt that they had found his trespass. His kindness - was worse than a sin where they were concerned. He felt weak and hated the thought that they would look down on him for his compassion - his mercy.

Chuckling, the Sheriff answered his own question, "It was a coat. A _leather _coat. A _**black**_, leather coat."

Guy swore that Vaisey's eyes were sparkling. He was relishing in this moment - he so badly wanted to humiliate him. He was certain that the Sheriff had been humiliated himself upon finding that his master-at-arms was sympathetic to the boy they were planning to kill.

"Any thoughts on who its owner is?" Vaisey raised his eyebrows in question.

When Guy didn't respond, Vaisey continued, "Strange thing to lose in a dungeon - isn't it Gisborne?" Guy stared straight ahead, as the Sheriff reached for and gripped the upper part of his arm, his nails scraping at his jacket, before yanking down on the leather so that Guy's face was even with his, "What were you thinking?"

Guy could feel the Sheriff's breath and spit on his face and it only served to remind him of the previous morning's encounter. He swallowed hard at the remembrance. Before he had a proper chance to respond, Vaisey shoved him away with great force for a man of his size. Guy managed to regain his balance without stumbling. He straightened his posture quickly, holding back a disgusted exhale.

Vaisey was right up against his face a second later and speaking with no tone in his voice - a dull whisper, "Next time you try to fly on your own - I'll make good on my threat to clip your wings. Do you understand?" The Sheriff turned quickly and tugged his tunic down, smoothing it out. He slapped his hands together and beamed, "Shall we continue?"

Allan moved into position next to Guy and the two of them watched in silence as the Sheriff, Spencer, and Prince John continued down the corridor. Turning to look at Guy, Allan tried to keep the shock off his face. He had given that child his coat? He hid his grin along with the pang of guilt that hit him for having doubted Guy's motives. He tried his best to ignore the fact that this didn't change anything in the long run. There was still the possibility that Guy would carry out the Prince's plan.

* * *

><p>Philip stared longingly at his only source of warmth as it lay just out of his reach on the dirty stone. The man called Spencer had made certain that he would be unable to get hold of it no matter how hard he tried. Philip knew this first hand - he had already made the attempt. He couldn't do anything. He sighed; at least he had been warm that night.<p>

The door was loud as it opened. The screeching noise made his shoulders convulse and a chill swept over his entire being. He wanted to cover his ears. Couldn't his uncle leave him be? Was it not bad enough that he had tried to strip him of his dignity? Throw him in a cell and dangle his death over him like a sword on a hair? Damocles be damned! _**He**_ was the one living in fear and he didn't even want the throne. He had never had ambition toward the crown and yet here he was.

Philip turned his attention back to the door. The fact that there were only two sets of footfalls on the stone stairs, partially alleviated his fears. Mayhap it wasn't his father's brother after all. He was suddenly curious as to whom it might be and if they were friend or foe. A flash of desire ignited in his chest. He had heard of Robin of Locksley - the Earl turned outlaw. Even his grandmother had spoken of him and his loyalty to the crown. Dare he pray that it would be that bold man? Of course, when he opened his eyes from his silent entreaty it was not and he closed them again in resignation.

It was the man who had given him the coat - he vaguely remembered his uncle calling him Sir Guy. The other man who had given him his vest that first night was with him. Philip's eyes drifted to the wadded up coat that lay in the middle of the floor. He watched as Sir Guy bent down to retrieve it.

Philip had tried to the best of his ability to hide it in the early morning. He had shoved it to a dark corner and hoped that none would notice it when the flickering torches were burning. The man called Spencer, though, had sharper eyes than most. He had seen it right off and made a show of telling the Sheriff and his uncle. He gritted his teeth, how he hated that man. He had discovered with little effort the knot on the back of his head and had no doubt that Spencer was the one who had struck him down the other night. He almost laughed. At least he thought it was just the other night - he had lost track of time. For all he knew it could have been weeks ago.

He held his chin up and tried to look imposing even while his dirty, greasy hair tickled his eyes. His head pained him still but he did his best to put on a brave front and ignore it. He looked at them from the corner of his eye and brushed his bangs away so they were not impeding his vision.

These were his captors and yet he felt that he owed them something. Even his own blood had cared less about him then they had. Would they be the ones to kill him? He did not know but right now, their kindness deserved some measure of respect.

Guy was looking at him in an unpatronizing way, as if he deemed him worthy enough to be a man - old enough for it to be unnecessary to smooth over words and fate.

Shakily Philip stood, he hadn't eaten for a while and the effects were visible. "Sir Guy?" there was a tremor of a question in his greeting.

Guy paused - how was he supposed to address this child? He was not a prince. He was not royalty - however he was the son of the king… He was no mere commoner. In the end, to settle the quandary, Guy tilted his head in a courteous bow.

Philip's eyes turned in Allan's direction, "And you?"

Allan grinned, "Allan A Dale."

"Philip."

Guy raised up the coat he held, "I see they found this. Hopefully you got some use out of it." He knew that he shouldn't say such a thing to begin with - especially with Allan present. The Lord above knew that Allan would think he was growing soft. Sure enough when he turned to look at him, Allan had an amused expression on his face. He discontinued it soon enough when Guy snarled in his direction. It did give him a slight feeling of triumph in proving that he did not harm the boy as had been Allan's fallacious assumption.

Despite the pleasant warmth that it had provided him - Philip still hadn't gotten that much sleep. However, that was more due to anxiety and righteous indignation than being cold. He nodded.

Guy's face was grim as he reached in through the bars and handed Philip a flask he had brought with him. He watched as the boy gulped greedily at the water. "Don't drown yourself," he said, reaching in and taking the flask back. Philip's expression entertained him - and he was sure that if the child had been a caged beast, he would have bitten his fingers clean off.

"Aw - common Giz. Give it back - will ya?"

Guy gave Allan a withering look before handing the flask back with a warning, "Take it slower."

Philip did as he was bid and drank at a calmer pace, unwilling to risk losing the water again. He did steadily creep away - taking the precious liquid as he went. He never thought that he would see the day when he tried to hoard water. He suddenly felt worthless - like he was unworthy to be descended from a king.

"You won't have the coat tonight."

Philip looked up, using his dirty, stained sleeve to wipe his mouth. Sir Guy's words came as no surprise to him - he hadn't expected that he would. He considered asking what the Sheriff would do to him for his kindness but decided against it. It still bothered him to care about his captors and he refused at this moment to show them that he did.

Without his realizing it, the water was soon drained. He tilted it high up above his head to secure the last remaining drops. Reluctantly he retraced his steps over to the bars and handed it back to Sir Guy. At least he'd had some water, he could survive without food. He knew of a soldier who had lived seven days without provisions and survived. He would not concern himself with eating right now.

Philip leaned against the wall, he still felt unsteady and needed to support himself. He looked Allan over, "I wouldn't turn my back on Spencer if I were you."

Allan chuckled, "Wouldn't you now?"

"He says things. About both of you."

"Prob'ly nothing I 'aven't heard." Allan looked at him before he spoke next, "He say anything to try an' scare _you_?" It didn't take much for him to picture Sir Spencer taunting a child who was scarce more than eleven.

Philip shrugged nonchalantly, "Empty pots make the most noise."

It took Allan a moment before he started laughing and Guy elbowed him hard to quiet him. "Oi, Giz - I like 'im!"

Guy rolled his eyes. "You can always pick yourself up a homeless waif the next time we're in London."

Allan leaned backwards, "Me - a father? Why? You think I'd be good at it?"

"I think you'd be able to relate quite well to any child in your company." Guy had no scruples about shattering the pleased look that had overtaken Allan's face. "We need to leave," they had been down here far too long and Guy was certain that the Sheriff was well aware of that. The longer he stayed here with the boy the more harm it would cause all of them.

"Sir Guy," Philip said in a brief goodbye. "Sir Allan."

Guy scoffed, "He's no knight."

Secretly pleased, Allan said, "Do ya think it's a good idea to be correct'in the King's own son? If he wants ta call me 'Sir Allan' - well let 'im why don't ya."

Philip glanced between the two of them - bickering. If circumstances had been vastly different, he would have found their banter rather amusing. Nevertheless, the situation being as it was - him in a dungeon and them his captors - he could only prevent his lips from twitching. His humor was slightly put off by the experience to say the least.

Guy looked at Philip one final time before turning and walking down the dark hall. Allan sneaked a peek behind him turning to Philip once again. He offered a weak smile bordering on a grimace and did the only thing that had been of any comfort to him these past few days. He reached in-between the bars and set his hand upon Philip's arm, "Good luck."

The supposed phrase of encouragement only served to make the young lad gulp hard. All his own words were stuck in his throat, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't choke them out. He gave a swift movement of his head to indicate he heard what Allan had said.

As he watched Allan disappear into the darkness and listened as they climbed the stairs, he hung his head. He was going to need all the luck he could get…

* * *

><p>Marian was starting to feel somewhat better by the afternoon. She tried to keep her mind busy with other matters and avoided thinking about Guy as much as possible.<p>

Her father was in far better spirits than he had been. At least he was safe throughout all this. Her turmoil was not his. She wanted to keep it that way - leave him in the dark - but as she picked and poked at her luncheon, he knew something was amiss.

When he asked her what was the matter she brushed past it. "I'm fine, Father. Really."

"You were out of sorts yesterday as well. I'll - I'll tell Sir Guy - he can send for the healer."

Marian held up a hand in a quick protest, "No. I'm quite well. I was only tired the other day."

"And today?"

Her lips were tight, "Recovering."

She knew that he didn't believe her, his discerning eyes told her all that she needed to know. He did not question her further and for that, she was more than grateful. She couldn't face Guy and be forced to confess to him that she was sick over the lie she had told him. That she _had_ been consorting with his worst enemy. Though in truth, Marian couldn't be so sure that his worst enemy wasn't the Sheriff…

* * *

><p>Allan felt useless at the castle. Nothing interesting or worthwhile was going on. He strummed his fingers noiselessly on his leg while he watched the Sheriff, Prince John, Spencer and Guy. None of whom were doing anything besides quietly talking amongst themselves. Yes - he concluded, his time would be far better spent at the Trip… Had he been actually paying attention to what they said he might not have felt that way.<p>

One word did manage to pique his interest - Hood. They were talking about Robin. If Allan A Dale was a different man, he would have recalled the hurt and anger of last night and been more than willing to launch himself into the conversation and sell out his former friend. However, Allan was not that type and the words only made him curious. He decided to pay closer attention rather than pining away for the sticky seats at the tavern.

"Well it's obvious they know about the boy," Sir Spencer said, his arms were laid over his chest and he was leaning back in his chair with his legs jutting out across the floor, crossed at the ankles.

Guy looked to the ceiling, "Obviously."

Allan didn't miss Spencer's hand lovingly caress the hilt of his sword and he was sure that if he saw it, so did Guy. Allan leaned into the circle of men as discreetly as possible.

Prince John spoke next, "We know that. But _how _does he know about him?" He took a lengthy drink from his goblet before continuing, "Surely he hasn't met my brother's brat. So _who_ told him?"

Vaisey was staring blatantly at Guy. "Maybe your new sergeant has toddled along in the footsteps of the former one? Humm?" He walked two of his fingers across the palm of his hand for emphasis.

"There wasn't time to breathe a word of this to anyone," Guy said. "The only-" Guy bit his tongue - he would not incriminate Allan regardless of whether or not he had ran off to Hood the night before. There was no need, no one would suspect him - for the Sheriff himself was the one who included him in this pertinent information.

However, the other feeling that he had been smothering all day was being freed. Marian knew… He grimaced slightly before he realized what he was about but Vaisey had already caught it.

The Sheriff waved his hand in a circular motion through the air, "The only… What?"

Guy pressed his teeth together so firmly that they hurt. He couldn't implicate Marian either. By God, he would not put her at risk! Nor would he lay the blame on Allan to cover his wife's possible disloyalty. His leg twitched in his desire to get up and pace, he firmly pressed his hand into the flesh to steady it. "The only ones you told are sitting here." Deciding to make the most of his dilemma he gave Spencer a sideways glance, "Unless Sir Spencer has been wagging his tongue."

Insulted, Spencer stood quickly, causing his chair to clatter loudly on the stone floor as it was knocked over. Fortunately, there was no room for him to draw his sword without slicing a few hairs off the Sheriff - who didn't have any to spare anyway…

Prince John motioned him to sit down, "Temper. No one is saying it is any of you. Though it has to be." His voice was almost a whine as he became more impassioned. He pressed his fingers into his chest, "_**I**_ certainly didn't tell anyone."

Clearing his throat with a cough, Allan broke into the discussion, "Wha' about your guards?" All eyes were suddenly upon him. Allan swallowed but remained steady. Guy's face plainly told him who he suspected and Allan felt obligated to help him and Marian out. He never bothered to consider that Guy could possibly think it might be him…

Prince John nodded slowly while he took in this new perspective and then with a wave of his hand ordered, "Have them executed."

Allan choked.

Once more, Guy looked to the cobwebs hanging off the ceiling for advice - they were the most honest counselors he had lately… He tried to see if, by some miracle, this would all turn out to be a nightmare. Nevertheless, while it was a nightmare it was not the kind that Guy wished it were. He turned to Allan and shook his head, warning him to keep quiet. There was nothing left to say.

A conflicted look moved across Allan's face and he pressed a fist to his mouth. Guilt tore through every inch of him. Why hadn't he continued in blissful ignorance? Why had he opened up his mouth? His initial word came out as a stutter while he gathered his thoughts, "Th-that's all well an' good but really, who would they tell? Not as though they 'ad time." He hoped that the Prince wouldn't disregard his borrowed argument.

While Prince John considered his words, Allan continued, "'Sides - you'll want your guards with ya on the trip 'ome." He held his breath while the Prince thought.

With a nod of his head, Prince John decided to let them live - there wouldn't be time to properly gather new guards. Allan let his breath go. Oh Lord.

* * *

><p>When Guy entered Locksley that evening, he planned to walk upstairs, fall into bed with a flask of mind numbing wine and recover from the day. He didn't expect to find Edward waiting for him at the door. Guy's forehead creased deeply, "Edward?"<p>

He hesitated and Guy looked pointedly at Allan. The latter stalked off, miffed that he was not to be included in this conversation also. It wasn't as if he could get anyone killed now! Much had told him to jigger off before - he could take a hint…

Guy returned his attention to Edward, "What's the matter?" He could feel a headache coming on.

His father-in-law's eyes did a sweep about the room making certain they were well and truly alone. "It's Marian."

Guy's face softened, "Is she all right?"

"I don't know. She was unwell yesterday and I am certain that she felt ill today as well."

"Do you think it is serious?" Guy didn't hide his concern - the words he gave were solemn.

Edward shook his head, "I can't be sure. She refuses to talk to me about it."

"I'll speak to her," Guy said and started past him.

The older man reached out and caught Guy by the elbow, "Don't. I - I don't want her to think she can't trust me."

Guy fixed his stare on him, "So - she keeps secrets from you too?"

Edward faltered; he didn't know how to respond to that without laying blame on his own child. Guy looked away from him and turned his gaze toward the stairs, "At least I'm not the only one." His shoulders were low and he frowned, "If she is unwell tomorrow I'll send for the healer." That bit of assurance would have to do for the time being.

* * *

><p>Guy felt uneasy as he entered their chamber after his lethargic trudge up the stairs; Marian was staring out the window. She had been hopelessly trying to keep her mind on more pleasant topics than her current situation. Her stomach had settled somewhat and she didn't feel like allowing her thoughts to return it to its former state of turmoil.<p>

Guy came to stand behind her, he wanted to test her out - to see if she felt as poorly as Edward suggested, "It's a fine evening for a ride."

Marian nodded her head, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground below the window's ledge, "It is."

He ran a finger down her arm and examined her shoulder intently, "I was thinking of taking one. Will you join me?" He still wasn't looking at her but instead at the strands of her hair his fingers unexpectedly found themselves fondling.

Marian was quick to consider everything. Was this simple pleasure worth the risk of her feeling ill again? Would she be able to control her guilty conscience long enough to ride with him? She made her decision without anymore delay. Chin held up she turned around and faced Guy, "Yes, I will."

Guy felt a measure of relief when she agreed to his proposal. She was not _seriously_ sick. "Good. I'll have the horses readied." He did feel a slight tremor of worry - he hoped that Hood would not cross their path. For the briefest instant, he had an image of Marian leaving him standing alone on the forest trail - leaving him for Robin Hood. Once she'd been betrothed to him and he knew from experience that even when a betrothal is broken the feelings don't abate instantly. Even more so, she was recently connected to him as the Night Watchman - what was to stop her leaving besides their hasty marriage? Added to all this was the knowledge that his enemy had been lurking about recently. He regretted his suggestion no sooner than she had accepted. However, he did remember that she told him of her own free will that she would not break her wedding vow to him. Guy of Gisborne was not a man that gave his trust willingly but here again, he found himself blindly handing it over to her - a woman who, he kept discovering, he didn't really know…

* * *

><p>They milled around Locksley for a time but Guy could plainly see that Marian was restless. She wanted to gallop - she wanted to run. "We can ride to Nottingham," he said with finality. He wanted to keep her as far away from Hood as possible.<p>

"What is the point of this if I can't stretch her legs?"

"Going to Nottingham will give her plenty of time for that." Though Guy couldn't quite be sure if he was speaking of the horse or his wife…

"The road is dull and confined," Marian said holding her horse back a few paces in order to give Guy time to catch up. "She wants to be free."

"She does not know what she wants." Again he was unsure of whom they were speaking. "She will be just as happy on the road as in Sherwood." When he said 'Sherwood' he knew without a doubt that was where she would rather be. He wondered to himself whether or not she had caught that… Would she address it?

Marian huffed in her irritation and Guy wished he could seek out the recently familiar cobwebs without being discourteous to his wife. Alas! The open sky was quite devoid of those glistening strands this day. What softened Guy's brooding mood and caused him to laugh quietly, was when her mount snorted as if expressing her distaste as well.

Marian had just been getting ready to say something back to him but she stopped short at his almost silent sound of merriment. She knew she was doing something she would regret later. She had to ask herself why she would risk spoiling the moment. Grudgingly she let his wishes be and rode next to him on the way to Nottingham. She also wanted wholeheartedly to deny the fact that it was Sherwood she would rather be wandering through - but she refused to tell him another lie…

* * *

><p>Guy gently placed his hand on Marian's back, "Marian? Wake up."<p>

She groaned. She had been awake for a while in fact but she was praying that he would think she was sleeping and let her alone. She felt ill again. She had felt sick when she had gone to bed despite the actually pleasant evening she and Guy had shared. It had eased sometime in the night but then returned to wake her from a peaceful slumber.

Marian didn't even know _why_ Guy was trying to wake her. He didn't need her - being more than capable of dressing himself… She batted his hand away - couldn't he just leave her be? "I'm tired," she said, the exasperation apparent in her voice. Her mouth was watering heavily and her stomach writhed. Feeling like someone was pouring the contents of a well into her mouth, she swallowed hard and pressed her lips firmly shut to keep the water from spilling out.

Guy could see plainly that Marian was ailing and it unnerved him. Edward had been right. "I'm taking you to the healer."

Marian thrashed her head back and forth against the pillow, "No." While she felt something was further amiss than the remorse she felt, she was not ready to disclose how she was feeling to anyone. She started to sit up, to prove that she was better than he presumed but found herself suddenly horizontal again - the room spun. The reason for this unanticipated bout of vertigo was that Guy had taken hold of her, pulled her into his arms, and lifted her out of the bed.

Marian kicked out in an effort to free herself, ignoring the blanket that was fighting against her. She would have succeeded had Guy not been ready for her. He grabbed her legs, pulled them together, and secured them under his arm. She cursed the fact that he knew she was the Night Watchman and able to escape him. He used his strength to his advantage and though Marian knew it was possible to break away from him, she didn't wish to harm him. Had he been an actual adversary she would have used her unbound hands to wreak havoc on his facial features. Nonetheless she considered using the tactic on him regardless.

Guy carried her down the stairs and to the stable where his horse stood, saddled and waiting. Allan, who was also waiting, had been there since dawn's break at Guy's bidding. His eyes widened when he saw Guy carry Marian in, making no attempt to place her on the ground.

"Put me down!" Marian yelled directly at her husband's face.

If Guy didn't have his arms securely around her, he would have felt forced to rub his assaulted ear. He ignored her, "Allan ride to the castle - inform the Sheriff that I'll be in late." Awkwardly, Guy lifted Marian onto the saddle and Allan's eyes grew wider still when he saw that she was in her nightclothes… A savage look from Guy informed him that he should promptly discontinue his evaluation.

Quickly Marian scooted to the back of the saddle - she was not about to be forced into the same embarrassing situation as she had been placed when Guy first rescued her from Winchester. Without comment, Guy climbed into the saddle as well and in his rush clumsily extended the blanket that had been around her moments ago, "Cover yourself with that."

"I wouldn't need to cover myself if you hadn't wrestled me out of my bed!" She snatched the blanket from his outstretched hand and felt a rush of nausea sweep over her. It was all she could do to keep from retching.

Guy sighed and gave Allan yet another stern glare. The gawking man didn't need a third warning. This was not his concern. He led his steed out of the barn before mounting and turning in the direction of Nottingham. Allan couldn't help the growing feeling of dread that was building up inside of him - how would the Sheriff take the news and what would he do to him? At times, the messenger was worse off than the actual culprit…

* * *

><p>"I don't need to see a healer!" Marian said once more. Guy had lost track of how many times she had spoken those very words. He growled, trying hard to stay calm and kept his eyes focused straight ahead.<p>

"You're unwell," was his only response. Guy ran his hand down his face as if smoothing out the rumpled places. He felt her arms around him and that only served to increase his worry - a reminder that she was his responsibility, that he had sworn to God he would protect her. He couldn't help but remember his own brush with death just a short time ago. Although he was sure no one poisoned her, he still was anxious over what was causing her ailment.

* * *

><p>Guy banged on the door, "Open up!"<p>

He heard rustling coming from inside but no one answered. He jerked his head upwards and glared at the sky before slamming his fist against the wood a second time. "I said open the door!"

Again, there was no response. "Are you deaf?" he yelled, pulling hard on the door handle. However, while the door was old and dilapidated looking, it held firm. He raised his hand, fully intending to beat the infernal thing down, when it creaked open slowly.

By this time, Guy was beyond furious and it plainly showed on his face. "What took you so bloody long?"

The healer didn't give comment to his demanding tone, "What do you need?"

Her simple reply further aggravated Guy, "My wife, Lady Gisborne, is unwell. You'll see to her."

She shrugged, "Sorry. Not taking new customers." She started to close the door blatantly in his face.

Guy grabbed the handle and shoved his foot into the crack that was growing increasingly smaller. "You _**will**_ see her."

She shook her head at him and yanked back on the handle.

"Is my money not good enough?"

"Oh - so you intend to pay for my services."

Guy's face twisted dangerously. "Yes," was the only word he was able to grind out.

"By all means, bring her in."

Guy stormed over to his horse where Marian remained seated. He held up his arms so that she could slide into them with ease, he didn't feel that it would be proper to let her dismount by herself.

Marian crossed her arms in defiance, pulling the blanket closer to her and turned her head away from him. She was refusing to come down. Guy seethed.

"Get down."

"No. I'm quite well now." In fact, she did feel fine. Her insides had settled themselves during the ride and that was the end of it as far as she was concerned. It wouldn't surprise her to feel sick again later on during the day but she would deal with that when it came. She had a strong feeling that at least some of her illness came from her shame and she was not about to confess that to anyone.

Guy sighed, "Last chance. Get off the horse." He waited patiently for her to come and when she didn't, he shook his head and gave a small, sardonic smile. Before Marian knew what hit her, Guy had taken hold of her foot and her arm, pulling her from her seat and into his grasp.

She kicked at him as he set her down and her foot found its mark, connecting with his shin. She didn't care if she hurt him this time - she was too angry with him and decided he deserved it. Guy cursed into her ear but he also was aware that she wasn't as aggressive as she could be. She was taking it easy on him. That thought in itself made him livid so he quickly pushed it aside.

Guy physically guided her to the entrance of the healer's shanty. Marian let out an angry sound as he pushed her inside. Following her, he leaned against a beam that stuck sloppily out of the wall and waited. He eyed the healer and used his head to motion her to care for his wife.

He took in the small room - chair, table, and bed were so disorderly that they couldn't possibly be used. The only thing that appeared to be tended to was the fireplace which had a steaming pot looming over it. He didn't even want to know what concoction was bubbling inside. Allan had confessed to him that he suspected this woman of some sort of witchcraft or devil's magic and despite having dismissed those idiotic assumptions at the time, Guy was unsure now.

Another thing that he couldn't help but notice was the smell. It was pungent. It was so foul that he would know where to look if any castle guards came up missing. He would probably find them buried under this ghastly clutter, with pieces and parts misplaced. His curiosity was getting the better of him and he wondered what he would uncover if he did make a search of the house. He was truly considering it until the very healer he was paying, shoved him on the arm and told him to leave.

Guy was taken aback - her nerve was unreal.

"I'll see her privately."

"I'm not leaving," Guy said, placing his feet firmer into the dust and debris littering the floor. Push as she might that woman was no match for him. Besides wanting to know what was wrong with his wife, Guy did not think it was wise to let her alone with this odd woman.

Marian locked eyes with him, "Just go, Guy. I'll be fine."

He hesitated before she said more forcefully, "I want you to go!" He made sure to slam the door on his way out - was it his fault that she was ungrateful? His careless disregard caused several of the balancing containers holding plants and salves to teeter and jangle together.

Sulkily Guy leaned against the thin walls of the little house; perchance he would hear some of the goings on… He wore a pronounced frown as he stood and waited. Although his body was still, his mind was very much active as countless scenarios rattled through his head. He crossed his arms tightly and let his chin droop to his chest. Strain as he might, he couldn't hear what they said and that unnerved him all the more.

* * *

><p>The healer prodded information out of Marian the best she could when the latter was not forthcoming. Finally, she told Marian that she couldn't care a scrap about what was wrong with her and that she could just sit and rot for all she was concerned. Despite the disrespectful words that were just uttered to her, Marian had to bite back a laugh. She had to wonder - were all herbalists this way?<p>

Slowly but surely, Marian began to relate in the briefest of detail what her symptoms were. When she was through, the healer nodded gravely, "Nothing to do but wait."

Marian looked quizzical. "Wait for what?"

Shaking her head the woman chuckled at her patient, "Are you daft?"  
>"Daft? How dare you!" Marian said, not smiling anymore. What had she done that she deserved to be treated thus?<p>

The herbalist shook her head, "Didn't you watch the signs?"

"Signs? I don't understand?"

"Didn't your mother teach you anything?"

This woman apparently didn't care to make herself aware of the lives of the nobility, "I lost her when I was very young."

"Ah - more's the shame. But surely when you missed your menses you knew."

Marian's eyes rounded and her chest felt as though it would smother her heart. Her hands involuntarily clutched at the blanket carefully wrapped about her arms. Oh dear God above…

* * *

><p>The return to Locksley was icy. Marian sat behind Guy with her arms lightly around him for support but she was silent. Guy's mood was dark - she hadn't offered the slightest bit of information since she had come out of the healer's. Long-suffering as he was attempting to be, he was getting angry. She had no right to keep this information from him! It was his God given due for her to tell him.<p>

Finally he lost his tolerance for her mute tongue, "What?" When she made no effort to respond to his query Guy ordered, "Tell me what she said."

"I'll tell you when I please!" Marian said to his back.

Guy pulled the horse to a sudden stop, "You'll tell me when _**I**_ say you will."

She gritted her teeth and remained quiet. Scowling, Guy gently nudged the horse spurring it forwards, he was trying to be as pleasant with his mount as possible - it did not deserve his wrath. His wife on the other hand…

What was she supposed to tell him? Marian was not embarrassed to be with child, even if it was testimony to the intimacy they shared. It was not that. She didn't know how to tell _him_ - she had always pictured herself telling Robin… She thought it somewhat shameful now and knew that if any over-zealous man of God found out about her impure thoughts it could very well be the bell, book, and candle for her.

She knew she couldn't keep this from him forever. He was bound to find out sooner or later. She wondered how he would respond, what he would say. Surely this would please him. Guy didn't seem the type of man to balk at the thought of having fathered a child. No doubt he would puff up like a crowing rooster and strut throughout the shire. Everyone would know before the week was out that Guy of Gisborne had produced an heir - whether or not the child was male.

They rode in silence for some moments more before Marian took a deep breath and spoke again - it was now or never and the latter was impossible. What she said almost made Guy fall off his horse, "I'm with child."

It might have been the matter-of-fact way in which she said it, or that she said it quickly and suddenly. It is possible that, after her initial refusal to disclose any information to him whatsoever, he was unprepared for her cooperation on any level. It could have simply been the words themselves. No matter the cause, Sir Guy of Gisborne was rendered speechless.

He had heard those words before and the memory associated with them was an unpleasant one. He felt something sharp in his midriff but ignored it; this was not the same situation and could not be treated as such. He noted that he had not taken a breath since she had spoken and he inhaled deeply.

Guy was unsure himself what to think of the situation. It was a given that all men wanted heirs. They wanted to show off their prowess and enable their name and the name of their forefathers to live on through a child. A son. Without question, he knew he wanted this and more. But it was the state of affairs, the circumstances, the timing that made this announcement a thing of worry and uncertainty.

He remembered how Vaisey had behaved around him after he had learned of his fathering an illegitimate child with a serving girl. The taunting and tormenting had gone on far too long. He could only hope this time it would be different, though he seriously doubted it. The Sheriff could find a way to twist and turn even the most joyous of things… Guy felt very tired, it felt as if all of England rested upon his shoulders and he remained silent much to the confusion and unease of his wife.

* * *

><p>Wearily, Guy followed Marian back to their chamber. He removed a glove and rubbed his head vigorously. Besides his own thoughts and worries something else was weighing upon him - how did Marian feel about the babe? She hadn't offered any thoughts, any expressions from the heart. He thought this while avoiding the fact that he hadn't even spoken since she told him - he didn't know what to say to her. Did she hate carrying his child? No. That could not be. It was her child as well and no mother ever hated her own baby. Furthermore, she did not hate him so it seemed - but did she want this?<p>

It was yet another thing to take away her independence. A baby would force her to remain at home to care for it - it would force her to remain safe. That thought made his face soften but he quickly covered over it lest she require a reason from him.

The very thought that pleased him, might grieve her. The baby could be a nuisance and a hindrance if it meant she couldn't do as she wanted. His child might be a bother to her and the reflection was sobering. He sighed - he didn't want to think on this anymore, "I'm needed at the castle. Rest." He gave his first and last words to her without even an acknowledgment of her announcement.

Once Guy was gone, Marian sat tensely at the edge of the bed, then quickly stood and covered the distance of the room again and again. Her shock was visible. She could not believe Guy's actions - or lack thereof. Had he even been listening? She had spoken loudly enough. He had to have heard!

She knew of men who completely ignored their children, considering them pests and nuisances - only something to show off and produce whenever the mood struck them. It hurt her to think that he might be as uncaring and indifferent as they - particularly since he had told her before that wouldn't be the case. For all his faults, she had hoped for more from him.

Guy's indifference changed her outlook. Though the news of a baby came as a surprise it was not necessarily an unwelcome one. Now, though, it seemed an overwhelming complication. How could she have a child now? The answer was that she couldn't. Not when there was a chance that the man she was married to, could hang as a traitor to the crown. Not when the father of her child might kill another man's son. Not when Robin was still coming to her window like he did as a boy. How could she face _**him**_ while she carried _**Guy's**_ child?

She felt like screaming or crying. So many things had swiftly blackened what should have been a happy occasion. He hadn't even stayed, let alone said one thing about his child. She knew she was partially to blame for not willingly disclosing the news to him but that didn't excuse his actions.

She needed to talk to someone who would care. Notwithstanding the fact that it was her husband's responsibility she was unwilling to wait on him any longer. On that note Marian ceased her strides and angrily retrieved Robin's neckerchief, letting the shield slam hard against the wall in her fury. Roughly, she tied it to the shutter and waited, running the back of her hand over her eyes when the tears threatened to spill out and onto her burning cheeks.

* * *

><p>Allan was standing alone in the corridor when Guy found him. "Well?" Gisborne asked, hoping that the Sheriff had been gracious but knowing truthfully that would not be the case.<p>

Allan shook his head, "'E's angry. I'd get in there if I were you and then right back out."

Stiffly Guy did just that. Sheriff Vaisey was standing with his back to him. Guy spoke, snapping the silence like an ill-fated branch, "Milord?"

Slowly Vaisey turned about and walked in his direction, arms folded behind him. "Gisborne. How pleasant to see you," he smiled sharply, all his teeth showing in a perfect flash of white.

* * *

><p>Guy found Allan where he had left him and hoped that his face didn't betray him. He rubbed his shoulder - he didn't know a chamberstick could be so brutal...<p>

"How's Marian?" Allan asked, falling into step next to Guy.

Guy remained silent, unable to put the state of affairs into words. His wife's delicate condition was not a conversation that he ever wished to have with A Dale.

Allan continued talking, seemingly oblivious to Guy's agitation, "Sure seemed worried 'bout her this morning. I bet you were sweating like a pregnant nun."

Guy stopped abruptly and stared horrified at Allan before shaking his head at him. What a dreadful comparison… Especially given the circumstances surrounding his use of it. He was sure even the devil had a higher code of speaking than that. He did, however, recall that Allan himself had claimed to be good with nuns. Darkly he wondered how many had been sweating after they had encountered him on a lonely eve.

Continuing his fast pace, Guy turned the corner and there stood Spencer blocking their way purposefully. Sir Spencer leered at them before leisurely walking forward, "I saw you gave that brat your coat. Pity. I'd thought slightly more of you."

Guy crossed his arms and didn't bother trying to hide his contempt. "Did you?" He chuckled, "You're the better man then, Spencer. I never thought anything of you."

Spencer looked down and grinned mockingly, seemingly unconcerned with the insult. He shook his head slightly, "You know, Gisborne, you're weak. Having sympathy for someone you know is going to die is the most pathetic thing I can imagine. You don't have the courage to harden your heart."

Allan spoke up just when Guy wished that he would have the sense enough to be quiet, "Well a' least he's got one."

Guy was unsure if he appreciated Allan's words or resented them. He didn't want anyone to picture a coddled child when they thought of the name Guy of Gisborne. Since his return to Nottingham, his name had been a symbol of respect. He didn't want to lose that. He wanted deference, he wanted fear and all that seemed to be slipping through his fingers at this very moment. The Sheriff had said as much and now here was Spencer reconfirming it.

These feelings did somewhat baffle him, for he also didn't want his humanity to vanish completely. He didn't wish to turn into the Sheriff, a man who plagued him. Even as he sought Vaisey's approval, he despised him. He wanted his wife's support more it seemed…

Spencer rolled his eyes, "No one asked your opinion, worm." He turned back to Guy without another word to Allan. "I almost hope that you're forced to kill the boy - then you'll have to see that your compassion was useless. Then again, you'll give the bastard a quick death - shameful as that might be. If I'm called upon," he gave a quiet, unnerving laugh, "If _**I'm**_ called upon, to serve the Prince, I'll give him what he wants."

Guy's jaw went rigid, "And what's that?"

Spencer locked an unwavering gaze onto him, "A show."

Allan wanted to be sick. It revolted him to think that they would make an exhibit of the child's suffering. That witty, spirited lad. And he thought that **he** was going to hell?

Spencer pushed past them as if they were the ones blocking the way, "Don't get attached."

Allan looked at Guy, who's eyes were steely - he tried to lighten the mood, "Ya know lots a' people make others happy when they go into a room. Spencer, he makes people happy when he leaves." He glanced sideways at Guy who remained expressionless. He tried again, "I think it's gutsy."

Guy turned to him, his face unchanged and Allan wasn't sure if his thoughts were still on Spencer or had traveled not too distantly to him, "What?" It came out as a bark and Allan held back a flinch.

"You do 'ave a lot of courage. You know that boy's gonna die and you're still riskin' all you got ta' show him kindness."

Guy shook his head and the sneer he was holding fell off, "That's not kindness - it's pity."

"Either way - it's more than 'e has."

"Wasn't it the other day that you accused me of being heartless?"

Sheepishly, Allan gave a shrug of his shoulders, "Must 'ave me mistaken for someone else."

Guy didn't say anything in response to Allan's comment - he was too absorbed in his own thoughts. Guy knew at that moment that he was going to be damned without hope of a reprieve. When the time came - he was going to kill Philip. This impulsive decision did not spring forth from any malice or desire to do the lad injury but it came from what Spencer had said. Guy had to admit that he had been right on one head - the method of execution Guy would employ was sure to be quick… That was all Philip could ask for now.

"I need you to go to Locksley and look in on Marian."

Allan looked startled, "That bad?"

"No," Guy said, letting out a sharp breath, "I left her under poor circumstances."

"Wha' of it?"

"She told me something I should have been glad to know."

Allan straightened his vest with one hand and ran the other through his hair, "What did you say?"

Guy pinched the bridge of his nose, "Nothing."

Allan took a step back and held up his hands, "I already covered for ya' with the Sheriff," he gestured in Vaisey's general direction, "I'm not gonna risk my neck twice."

Guy growled and turned to go. "I'll do it myself."

* * *

><p>"But Master - we have to get back to camp! They're expecting us soon," Much said, shifting from foot to foot while Robin tested his grip on the trellis ascending to the master bedchamber in Locksley.<p>

"Marian might have heard something about the King's son," Robin said with a grunt as he pulled himself off the ground.

"Shouldn't we wait and bring the others? What if it's a trap?"

"Set by Marian?" Robin craned his head to look down at Much, his mouth agape.

"No. No. By Gisborne."

"Gisborne doesn't know this signal." Robin got his rhythm and began scaling the trellis much faster, leaving Much below. Robin was sure his friend would be considering all that could go awry - foolish as those thoughts might be. He didn't intend to let a little anxiety dissuade him - he was going to see Marian.

Once he reached the top, he balanced precariously with one hand and tapped on the side of the window to proclaim his presence. Marian poked her head out and looked down at him. Robin grinned up at her, "You called?"

Marian gave him a solemn nod and stood aside so he could finish climbing in. He stretched his back when he was on solid ground. "Are you alright?"

"I am with child." There - she had said it. No lies. No half-truths. No hesitation - she refused to make the same mistake twice. Unlike her husband, Robin would be forced to acknowledge her.

Robin felt his jaw go slack before it tensed. He blinked, unable to grasp the full meaning of her words - unable to comprehend what she said. "Child?" Repeating the word pounded it into his body. She was with child - Guy's child? His enemy's child? A bitter taste filled his mouth and his lungs felt like rocks. The woman who should have been his was bringing his rival's child into the world. The woman he loved. The child should have be his…

Despite trying to keep her wishes - Robin wanted so badly to end this. Take Marian as _**his **_wife - raise _**her**_ child as his own. That was impossible and he knew it too well. She wouldn't let him - her promise came first. While he didn't mind placing below the Creator in her dealings - it angered him that he ranked below Gisborne. His heart felt cold and dead as he looked at her. Everything he wanted, desired, and hoped for was dangling in the sour, illicit possession of another man.

"That's," Robin swallowed to keep his voice steady when all it really wanted to do was shatter. "Wonderful, Marian." He felt his eyes prickle. Privately - wrong as it might have been - he used to imagine her speaking those words to him. Now she was - and it cut him so deeply he didn't think he would ever recover. Those dreams were nothing more than the ghosts of past wishes.

"How can I have his child when he's going to kill that boy, Robin? How?" She looked at him intently, "I don't think I could forgive him." There was more to it than that but that is all she wanted him to hear for now. She would not disclose all of Guy's faults to Robin.

Sharply, Robin bit back the stinging comment he felt well up into his bosom, _how could you forgive his other crimes against the throne and the poor of Nottingham? Against me?_ Instead, he tried again, "Marian - you don't have to do this alone. Come with me. I'll protect you and the baby. He's not worthy of you." Hesitating, Robin reached his hands over and laid them upon her shoulders. He felt them slump beneath his touch - was her resolve weakening?

Marian reached up and covered his hands with hers before shaking her head slowly but resolutely.

Robin felt his life's blood pour to the ground. His mouth felt dryer than dirt and his tongue stuck to his teeth and the roof of his mouth. He nodded gravely and tried to keep calm. There was nothing he could say to cover over the renewed pain he felt at losing her.

As they stood there, his hands on her shoulders and hers laid across his, the door opened suddenly. They hadn't even heard the steps creak. Simultaneously the two turned and there, stone still in the doorway, stood Guy of Gisborne.

And though initially Guy's eyes were expressionless with astonishment, they grew wide and Robin could see every emotion reflected in them. In the same moment, Gisborne's face fell and with a panicked, almost wild countenance, he fled from the room…

* * *

><p><em>AN Hi everyone. Sorry for the long delay. I hope the length of the chapter made up for it… I am certain you will know never to trust me again when I say the next chapter will be up soon and I am sure that I have lost a few readers due to the amount of time between updates. But it has been a really busy summer. _

_My Grandpa just had surgery (he is fine by the way) and things have just been - well, as I said - busy… :o) It seems that by the time I actually have time to write I am too exhausted to do it… But anyway - enough about me. I do hope that you didn't think that I was quitting/forgetting about/ignoring "Humanity." That is something I promise to NEVER do. This story will be finished or I will die typing at four in the morning. :o) _

_This is the longest chapter so far - almost twelve thousand words._

_I'd like to thank the anonymous readers and those that I can't PM. I really appreciate your continued support. _

_I do hope that the story is moving a little better. I left you with a cliffhanger. Enjoy. *evil grin* I hope that everyone was in character. You know I worry about these things. Guy and Marian were not expecting to be expecting. ;) I hope that I conveyed that in a believable fashion… Take care, dear readers!_


	20. Apples of Gold

_Apples of Gold _

Guy's feet barely kissed the ground as he ran down the steps. He could hear the blood surging in his ears. He wanted to run, as far away as possible. Away from Nottingham. England. Europe. Her. Away from her. To the end of the earth where he could surely hurl himself off the edge and end his miserable existence. Rid himself of this false life where he ridiculously thought he stood a chance at happiness.

He skidded to the door, clutching the frame, gasping for air. His hair fell into his eyes obscuring his vision - making it blur. At least that is all he had the courage to tell himself… His wife! His wife was seeing Hood. In _**their **_bedchamber. What else had she been doing with him? He shook his head, unable to bear thinking about it. Then the thought hit him: surely the baby was Hood's. Damn! He cursed her name a thousand times in his heart within the span of a moment. She had whored herself to his enemy - an outlaw - and now carried his babe.

Guy of Gisborne felt nauseous. Oh - how he wanted to fall upon his own sword. His eyes narrowed; he would make sure Hood's blood wet the end of the blade first. He evened out his breathing and closed his eyes, standing to full height. He released the doorframe and drew his sword. The raspy sound it made against the scabbard filled him with a ghastly, ruthless power. His heart was empty when he turned and ran up the stairs.

* * *

><p>Robin felt the blood drain from his face. His throat felt as if Gisborne's hands were already choking the life out of him. "We've got to go," he grabbed Marian's hand and pulled her closer to the window. She resisted, though her eyes were wide and excessively bright with worry. "Marian! You have to leave!" Without caring about the consequences of his actions, Robin grabbed her by the sleeve and forced her to him, "He'll kill you. You can't stay!"<p>

Her body filled with a sudden fear. Fear for herself, the child she carried, Robin, her father and even Guy. She couldn't help but wonder what he would do. She pulled back, "You go. I have to stay."

Robin shook his head, "No. I can't let you." Every fiber in Robin's being screamed - _Take her with you!_ If he allowed her to stay and meet the wrath of her husband, her blood would be on his hands as much as Gisborne's. That was something that he didn't think would ever wash away.

Marian listed a number of reasons why she could not follow Robin. Her father ranked highest among them but having a child in the woods followed. Then there was the prickling one that nudged at her - she couldn't stand the thought of Guy living out the rest of his life believing that she had been unfaithful to him.

No. She had to stay - no matter the penalty. She had started digging her grave; it was time to fill it. She pushed Robin to the window, "Go."

He straddled the windowsill and looked intently at Marian, pleading with her to relent and come with him. She shook her head and Robin started to swing his left leg over the edge and onto the trellis, but he hesitated. She wasn't safe here anymore and he couldn't abandon her to her fate. He took her arm again, "Not without you."

If he could only get her to go with him, then surely he could make her see that Gisborne was no good for her and she had no obligation to stay with him. Certainly, God above would make allowances in this particular case. He had done more good in the world than Guy had - God would hear him out long before the latter.

To Marian it seemed as if an eternity had passed whereas in truth, it had only been a mere minute. Her heart was thrashing about within her. He needed to leave. There was no question in her mind that Guy would kill him and she would not permit Robin to stay and give him the opportunity.

As the door flew open, it slammed into the wall causing Marian's already racing heart to skip a beat. The entire contents of the room rattled as a result of the force. Once more, Guy stood in the doorway. His teeth clenched tightly together and his lips pulled back into a wolf's devilish smile. He clutched his blade in his right hand so tightly that his knuckles were pallid. The color had drained from his being as well and he looked hollow and empty. He looked like a man long dead - his spirit murdered before his body became aware.

Guy of Gisborne didn't say a word, he didn't even think. He just let his body react naturally and suddenly he found himself across the room, lunging at Hood, his sword ready to feel soft flesh split under it. Marian hollered something but he didn't pay her any heed - her words were inconsequential. He was blind, his eyes saw but he did not.

Robin jerked backwards at the last moment and Gisborne's sword cracked and splintered the wood at the window's ledge. Robin swung his leg back inside the room and directed it at Guy's head. His aim was true, Gisborne's head snapped back, and he stumbled into the frame of the bed.

White blotches obscured Guy's vision as he tried to regain his grip on consciousness. Hood's boot had crashed into his chin and he could feel the blood puddle between his teeth where he had bitten down on his tongue from the impact. It trickled out the corners of his mouth as he ground his jaws against the pain.

Though slightly off balance, Guy righted himself and swung wide at Robin. The blade only sliced the air while Robin effectively dodged the motion.

Robin looked frantically around the room, even with Guy wounded the fact remained that he was weaponless. It was then that he noticed of the shield above the bed.

In a mad scramble, Robin crawled over the mattress and grabbed his only protection, just as Guy's weapon cut a chink out of one of the bed's ill-fated columns. Robin rolled to the floor and used the shield to block Gisborne's next assault. Robin was grateful at this moment that rage blinded his opponent. For however brutal his attacks were, they were very ill planned. He could hear Marian yelling and he could hear Much outside as well, calling his name. It was impossible to respond to either without jeopardizing his immediate safety.

Guy's head ached from the blow and his disorientation was catching up to him. He ignored it; he was so impatient to eviscerate his foe that he could die in the process and go happily as long as Hood died along side him.

He raised his sword again and it slammed against the shield in a sickening, scraping scream. A strange, hollow fulfillment consumed him as Hood stumbled back into the wall. His victory was near! He bashed the shield repeatedly as Robin held it up to defend himself. Guy managed to catch a piece of arm that peaked out from its cover. He heard Robin's pained exclamation and felt exultation rise in his chest - the sound was music to his ears.

Too little, too late he felt the toe of his enemy's boot hook around his heel and pull. Guy went down backwards, breaking his fall against one of the bedposts and grating a limb in the process on the newly splintered wood.

He hissed and let it transform into a yell as he sprang back and lashed out hard. The rapid succession of his blows came as no surprise to Robin and he was able to block Guy, though his arms were growing weary. He could only pray that Guy's were fairing no better…

Crouched as Robin was to better fend off Guy, he didn't notice when Guy kicked out and caught the edge of the shield. Robin's protection snapped up, into his nose and instantly he felt blood gush from his nostrils.

Guy lashed out a second time and the black and yellow shield flew from Robin's hands and slid across the floor. Robin wiped at his nose but stood his ground. He would not give Gisborne the gratification of knowing his anxiety. Lifting his chin he looked directly into his enemy's eyes praying that stare would haunt him for all eternity.

A small spark of life crossed Guy's countenance and his snarl changed into a fleeting smile, "Time to die, Hood."

He began to hoist the sharp blade once more without any thought of the Sheriff's glee when he carried in Robin's severed head and smashed it down in front of him. No thought of his wife's misery. No thought of her at all. Nor did he care that Spencer wouldn't get the pleasure of dispatching Hood and his delusions of grandeur would be frustrated. The only thought he possessed was that he would be furnishing retribution for all the hurt Hood caused him. Nevertheless, Guy knew that even his death would not be able to cover the pain.

His chest ached and his lungs felt too small for his body as he watched Robin's unflinching countenance. Once he was gone it would be over, things would be as they should. Still he felt wanting - Marian had deceived him. And he had believed her! Things would _**never**_ be as they should. However, this final act would give him some peace of mind.

Both hands gripped his sword tightly, like an extension of his body and he hoisted it above him. Guy started to lower the blade and was about to chop it into Hood's skull when he was forced to stay his hand. Marian stood directly in front of him, her arms spread out at her sides to protect the dead man behind her. His innards grew queasy - had she been a second later he would have ripped her face open.

"Move," he said, his voice hoarse, though his mouth was wet with blood. When had he gotten hurt? Ah, he remembered.

"No," her voice was steady even if she felt her hands tremble at the lack of emotion he displayed.

"I told you to move."

Not daring to look away, she shook her head at him. Marian could feel Robin behind her as his hand reached out and gripped hers. She knew it was a plea for her to stop - to stay alive. Robin was sure Guy would kill her and in sooth, she wasn't so sure he was mistaken.

Guy sniffed angrily before shouting, "Get out of the way!" He was seething now and a passion filled his soul, a passion of hate, "I'll deal with you later."

Marian's cheeks were burning with humiliation and terror as she remained where she was. "Guy," she choked on his name. "Please."

Her husband snorted, "Please. Why should I do anything for you?"

She had no reason to give him at first and she looked down. _Why should he?_ Quickly she peered up, "Because you're a good man."

His laughter sent an all-consuming coldness into her heart, it was worse than if he had stabbed her with his sword. At least it would be over and done.

"I am no good man."

"Guy don't. Think -" she stopped herself. She couldn't say _Think of us _- that would only be a slap to him under the circumstances. "Think of the baby."

Guy bared his teeth, "Why should I care if it doesn't have its father?" The words killed him even as he spoke them.

Marian's brow furrowed in bewilderment until his meaning seemed to strike her. She wanted to yell at him but that would not soothe the state of affairs - only fan the flame. She inhaled and prayed silently for guidance, "Guy, for me."

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes tightly, could he do this? Guy felt himself lower his guard. She was the only good thing that his life had seen in years. Could he kill that goodness? He could. He could make her life a living hell. Let the flames that had swiftly consumed his world, incinerate hers as well. He could forced her aside easily, he was stronger, and let her witness her lover's bloody death. It would burn in her memory for the rest of her life.

He held back an instant longer, preparing himself - trying to savor the moment. Marian stepped forward and laid a hand on his shoulder, "Guy-" It struck him that he had found Robin and her just minutes ago in a similar position. Guy stepped backwards and away from her touch, shaking his head as if he did not want to believe his own memory.

Marian let out an inaudible sigh and took another step in his direction, easing away from Robin, hoping to give him more space - a better chance to flee. She made another noiseless petition to God pleading that Robin not be so stupid, as he often was, and try to take her with him. She could only give him a small opening to escape and should he try to save her, it would be lost and her efforts would be for naught.

Guy could almost feel the steel scorching his hand. One instant he wanted to hurl it from him, the next he wanted to scream and thrust it out in blind fury, damning the consequences! If he killed her, she wouldn't be able to hurt him again… The lies smoothly flowing from her lips would die and he would be free.

He moved back another pace and his wife moved forward one. What was she getting at? Too late he realized. Hood bolted from where he had been cornered and made for the open window.

Guy shoved Marian aside and roared, going after Robin one final time but missing as his adversary half climbed, half fell down the trellis. Gisborne swore to have that torn down and chopped up for kindling…

* * *

><p>Much had a fist pressed forcefully to his mouth, in order to stifle a yell, as his friend landed hard on his back. While he shakily stood, Much could see that Robin's arm was bleeding and he was glistening with sweat. Much ran to his side and helped him, urging him to get back to camp as quickly as possible.<p>

Robin was Much's first priority, he always felt as though he had a certain responsibility to look after him. Much could see no future for himself if Robin was dead. They had been friends far too long for him to think of himself alone. There was no way that Robin could continue the fight against Gisborne - Marian would have to wait for reinforcements.

Robin ignored Much's exhortation to run, as he watched the window where Marian faced Gisborne alone. He felt disgraced. How could he have been such a coward and left her there? He knew she had intended for him to make his escape but it cut him to the quick to think that he had abandoned her.

He felt suddenly exhausted, "Much, give me your sword."

"But Master!"

"Much!" his tone was a warning that was not to be taken lightly. "Your sword."

* * *

><p>Guy rounded on Marian, his weapon still clutched in his hand, "You little harlot." His teeth gnashed against themselves repeatedly, as he looked her up and down with contempt. He sneered in her direction giving a full display of his derision towards her.<p>

She had betrayed him - again. Lied to him - again. Kept things from him - again. There was no reason for him to protect her any longer. He had forgiven her before in an attempt to make reparation for letting Winchester rape her. He laughed dryly to himself, even that hadn't proved true - the man had not gotten that far. He owed her nothing.

He showed her his back and went to the window once more. Hood was gone - the dastard. Something caught his attention. A piece of green material fluttered in the wind. Guy tugged at it but it would not come. He wrenched it from the shutter and the ripping sound it made brought him a measure of satisfaction.

He fingered the worn material - a scarf - and felt his fist close tightly around it. Guy couldn't help but recognize it as Robin's… He whipped around to Marian and shook the neckerchief a hair's breadth away from her face. "So this is how you get Hood to come and make a cuckold out of me. Like the whore from Jericho," he spit out the words as if they seared his lips.

If memory served, Marian was almost certain that Guy's use of the analogy was wrong - the girl form Jericho was saved because of her actions - whereas Marian was condemned. She cringed and refused to meet his glare. How could she face him? She could swear a thousand times on the grave of her mother that she had been true to him and it would not matter. He had all the proof he needed.

"It's not what you think," she said, watching him grow angrier.

"Oh? Then pray tell, _wife_, what should I think?"

She faltered and he spoke again, "Do you take me for a fool? Whatever you say - I won't believe you."

"Then believe what you will!"

"I already do." He tugged at the bottom of his jacket. "And I intend to tell the Sheriff what I believe as well."

She looked horrified. He wouldn't. He couldn't! She was with child - his child! Though he hadn't said anything when she had told him, she could not find it in her heart to think of him as that merciless. "Guy! The baby?"

He shifted away from her and pulled open the door, "It's not my concern."

She was speechless; she would hang for this. Moreover, Guy was going to walk her to the gallows himself…

* * *

><p>Guy stormed down the stairs and out the door to his waiting horse. He felt as though his skin couldn't contain the hate that was throbbing through him. He wanted to forget everything. Go back to sleep and start the day anew and pray that it did not transpire as badly as it actually had. Nevertheless, that was impossible. Therefore, without another thought, Guy of Gisborne rode towards the castle and the Sheriff.<p>

* * *

><p>Robin made a sound of profound relief and slipped out of the door to the servant's quarters as soon as he heard Gisborne leave. He motioned for Much to stay where he was and sprinted up the stairs. Marian was standing there, her face a mask of shock. "Marian! We've got to go!" He was filled with relief at seeing her alive and the hole that had begun to consume him began to fill.<p>

He grabbed her hand and started for the door again. He hollered her name when she refused to go along with him. Robin pulled her to him and held her, "We have to go." She was silent and Robin cursed, she was going with him whether or not he had to sling her over his back and carry her to Sherwood himself!

It surprised him when she nodded into his chest, "I know."

He held her at arm's length, "Good."

"My father-"

"We'll take him too. Marian, I - I'm glad you understand."

Marian shook her head, "The baby. I can't let that be on his conscience."

Robin scoffed, "I don't think it would be." When she didn't respond, he headed for the door, "Bring what you need. I'll get Edward and be back."

After he'd gone Marian covered her mouth, how she wished she had never hung that scarf…

* * *

><p>Much let Edward lean against him as Sherwood welcomed them with outstretched arms. Marian looked back once at Locksley before, sadly, walking to her new life - one that still included Guy but now as an enemy, not a friend. Her morale worsened and she felt the loss of him far more than she had expected.<p>

* * *

><p>Guy passed by Allan as if he didn't see him, as he strode with determined step down the corridor. A part of him tried to recall the time when he found out that he had nearly killed Marian with his knife. He was trying in vain to bring to mind how sick he'd felt afterwards and how angry he had been with himself. He knocked that part away, he didn't wish to think on that now. He couldn't remember a time when he felt that he would rather join her in the grave than live without her.<p>

He disregarded Allan when the latter started walking next to him. He did not want anything distracting him from what he was about to do. He had to think and that was something he would be unable to accomplish with Allan babbling.

"Things not go well?" Allan asked.

Guy wheeled around and shoved him against the stone, sending the breath from him, "No. Now get away from me."

"Oi!" Allan coughed and massaged the back of his head where it had connected with the wall. "I's only asking."

"Don't." Guy continued on and noted that Allan followed at a good seven steps behind. When he entered the Sheriff's chambers, Guy didn't hesitate to speak, "Milord."

"Yes Gisborne? Come to grovel and beg me to let you go home early?"

"No. I have something to tell you."

"Spit it out - I don't have all year."

"Milord-"

"Sheriff!" Spencer shoved past Guy and stood before Vaisey. "The Prince sent me to request an audience before dinner. He wishes to further discuss the matter of the feast with you."

"Of course," the Sheriff said, clapping his hands together and smiling - from what Guy could tell - a very fake smile.

Spencer quit the room but not before ramming his shoulder into Guy as he did so. Guy gritted his teeth so hard he was sure they would crack under the pressure. Vaisey gave him his attention again, "You were saying?"

Suddenly Guy was unable to swallow, "Hm?" That interruption had allowed time for a sliver of doubt to wiggle it's way inside his head and etch itself on his mind.

"You said you had something to tell me." Showing his impatience the Sheriff strummed his fingers on his desk.

Guy finally managed to gulp. Oh Lord. He wished he had something to hold onto, in order to keep upright. How could he go on with this? When it came down to it, could he let the Sheriff snuff out her life and leave him to wallow in his own self-pity?

"What did you want to tell me?" Vaisey's voice had a sharp edge and rose by the word.

Guy calmed and steeled himself, "Marian's with child." With those words, the horrendous pounding in his upper body started to die, although it was not what he had come to tell Vaisey. He felt like he had let himself down. He wasn't man enough to tell the Sheriff that his wife had given information to Hood. He had also left out the fact that he strongly believed that the child was in fact Robin's as well…

The Sheriff stood, "Splendid!"

Guy's eyebrows shot up in astonishment, "Milord?"

"Yes. I was wondering when baby Winchester would be announced!"

Guy almost let his head droop. By God's heart, why did the Sheriff feel the need to taunt him now?

"I'm sure you're quite anxious to finally see little Harry! Oh, what's the sad face for? Did you think it was yours? You know it's not, Gisborne."

He stepped away from the Sheriff and walked out of the room, barely uttering two words, "I know."

* * *

><p>Guy tried to close the door hard behind him but Allan caught it with his boot. Gisborne didn't care that Allan hadn't spoken a word to him the rest of the day. He knew that Allan had heard, skulking outside the Sheriff's door as he was. He didn't give a bother about that either.<p>

Locksley felt empty and it made Guy's skin crawl. Something was amiss. Even before they wed - the manor never felt this desolate. Leaving Allan at the foot of the stairs, Guy entered into his bedchamber. He expected to see her, red eyed and weeping into her palms. Then he remembered that she was stronger than he thought and had more strength of will than any woman alive.

She was not there. Not bothering to panic, he made a search of the house and found neither Marian nor Edward. Her horse was still in the stable but there was no sign of her anywhere. She had left; gone off with her swain to have a roll in the thorns and thistles. His open hands suddenly formed fists. Let her. He did not care.

He was better off now that she was gone. She wouldn't be a distraction to him anymore. No more lies. But there was no denying that nothing good remained in his life without her. He had no friends to speak of, if you didn't count Allan - and he didn't.

Therefore, even though Guy felt he should have been glad that she had left, he was stunned to find the remains of a chair in his hands and see pieces of it strewn across the floor. He groaned and sunk down to the ground, leaning his back against the wall as a memory resurfaced. He had done the same thing when Winchester had taken her. Back when she meant something to him. Back when he cared. If only Hood had gone after her then - he would not be in this state now.

Guy stood and went down the stairs not even acknowledging Thornton's halfhearted attempt to speak to him. He revisited his room some minuets later, arms laden down with various containers. With that, Guy of Gisborne drank himself to sleep.

* * *

><p>Guy wiped at his bloodshot eyes with the back of his hand as he slowed his horse at the castle stables. They did not appreciate the daylight anymore than the rest of him did. He hated to admit that he was surprised not to have woken in a pool of his own vomit. He was just getting ready to dismount his horse when Vaisey came, and ordered his own steed to be readied.<p>

"No, stay there," the Sheriff instructed. "We're going to commandeer some of the shire's finest beasts for Prince John's feast." He made a show of rhyming some of the words, obviously pleased with the prospects.

Allan frowned deeply at the Sheriff's intentions. He knew that there was more than enough meat at the castle. Requisitioning the poor's livestock, possibly the only food they had to feed their families, was unnecessarily callous. It wasn't like the peasants had many animals to begin with, but when you take that from them… Allan snorted, they weren't even allowed to go hunt venison to put food in their children's bellies. He knew from experience that there was a glut of _the King's deer _in Sherwood. What the devil did he need them for? It wasn't as though the King could munch on them from the Holy Land after all.

Allan wasn't able to prevent his ignominy. He felt his shame and disgrace as if they were twin weights looped around his neck, dragging him down. Looking at himself only confirmed his suspicions - he was lower than dirt. Could he condone the fact that he had put in with this man - the Sheriff of Nottingham? Oppressor of the weak and helpless. Liner of his own pockets. Ruthless, gleeful murderer…

Allan was expected to do whatever this sadistic man required, even if it went against his grain. Even when it opposed everything that he had once stood for. That seemed so, so long ago. Despite wishing that Robin would give his men some of what they stole, he knew that he was doing what was right. Would he have gotten over that greedy hill had Gisborne not stepped in? He hoped so. Allan would never find out though - would he? He had crossed that bridge and then burnt it behind him to prevent his return.

He envisioned the people who would go hungry as he sat on his bum and did nothing. A widow with her five skeletal children. An old man hardly able to stand long enough to plow an eighth of his field. A young couple with their newborn babe. An old woman with cracked, bony fingers, scrubbing the flesh off her hands while trying to keep alive. These were the people that Robin tried so hard to help. These were the people that _**he**_ had let down.

Allan knew there was nothing he could do to change the mistakes he had made or fix the crimes he had committed. But he swore, that when he looked into the faces of those families and saw their hopelessness, he would make it up to them. One day.

While Vaisey listened for a satisfying _pop_ as he dug his heels into the back of an ill-used guard and mounted his horse, he continued with his conversation, "Why don't you bring your rounding wife to dinner at the castle? There's a stuffed suckling pig being prepared and kid boiled in its mother's milk." He licked his lips in mock anticipation.

Guy grimaced at the distasteful menu before responding with as much composure as he could muster, "I don't believe that she will be able to attend, Milord."

Vaisey gestured as if encouraging Guy to speak further, "And why not?"

"She has been keeping to her bed," he lied. "The babe has made her unwell."

The Sheriff nodded, "Given the circumstances surrounding it, I can see why." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "I think I'll stop in and give her my regards - make sure she's being truthful with you."

"Milord?" _What did the Sheriff suspect? _

"Did you ever think, Gisborne - no I don't suppose you do - that she might be claiming to be with child to avoid her - ah - wifely duties?"

Guy let the air out of his lungs in relief and furrowed his brows. Better to let Vaisey do the talking instead of interpreting any hidden meanings… "Milord?" he repeated - that was the only thing he really felt comfortable saying. The Sheriff was confounding - before he had seemed to _know_ that she was with child, even if he did suspect Winchester was the culprit.

"Really Gisborne, if you're this bright in bed I can't imagine you figuring out how to make one."

Growling ever so quietly, Guy attempted to overlook the Sheriff's insults. He motioned for Allan to follow them. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until Locksley was but a short gallop away that Guy became restless. He held the reigns too tight and fidgeted, asking that the Lord above smite Vaisey's schemes from his head. That being said, if that could not be done he asked that God smite him instead and let him leave this wretched world. However should he not accomplish either, Guy attempted to concoct a plausible reason for his wife's absence. He would say that she must have gone to consult with the healer woman. Yes - the Sheriff would be at a loss to argue with that, unless he insisted upon checking up on his story. Surely, he wouldn't have reason to… Guy felt the worry writhe in his stomach, once the Sheriff latched onto an idea, he seldom released it.<p>

"Let's stop in," Vaisey said with a smile so despicable that Guy resumed his bargaining with God.

Guy remained motionless, "My lord I don't think-"

"Oi! Believe me, mate, you don't wanna do that."

All heads swiveled to look at Allan who looked very nonchalant about the entire thing. He leaned forward, "Giz don't want ta say anything, but it's a bloody hell in there."

"Oh," the Sheriff said, pursing his lips. "How so?"

"Well I dunno why anyone calls it a _**delicate**_ condition - there aint anythin' _**delicate**_ 'bout it." He held up a forefinger, "But I do know why they should be confined. God in heaven I can hear her spewing out everythin' she ate - and even some she didn't - all the way down in the servant's rooms. I don't know what they do ta make 'imselves heave like that - 'less their up there ruminating like goats."

Guy had to cover his mouth with his hand, partially to hide his amusement as well as to keep from gagging.

"Goats?" Vaisey asked, slightly taken aback. Though he tried to make himself as unfamiliar with the fairer sex as possible, he had never heard anything close to what Allan was describing.

"Frightful - aint it? That chamber pot has overflowed more'n once - right Giz? An' if they don't catch it in time I've seen it start seeping through the floor and drippin' downstairs."

Guy could not prevent his breath from hitching - he was only thankful that the Sheriff was so fixated on Allan's unhindered, ridiculous depictions that he didn't hear him. Alas - he didn't see how the Sheriff would believe this utter nonsense…

"And begging your pardon Sheriff - you just 'ad those couple of meat pies… The sounds alone are bordering on the ungodly - make any man lose 'is lunch."

"Yes. Well, womanly plights never did merit my notice." Vaisey turned to Guy, "Bring your wife to the castle when she is not seeping or leaking or whatever it is that she is doing."

The Sheriff trotted his horse alongside Guy's, and spoke only loud enough for his ears, "Consider yourself fortunate, Gisborne. I don't know the real reason your boy is working so hard to keep me from Locksley - but I do know an overplay when I hear one. It won't work forever. I intend to see Marian sooner than later. In addition, I know that the Prince would enjoy paying his _respects_ as well. Be forewarned - I'm being gracious today."

Guy felt his lips tighten; apparently, God did answer prayers in one form or another… Despite the degree of gratitude, he felt for Allan at the moment, he didn't glance back at him. Why reinforce what the Sheriff already knew?

* * *

><p>"You wanna talk 'bout it?" Allan asked as they entered Locksley. The moon was adorning the black sky by the time they arrived at the manor and Guy had not yet divulged why Marian had been absent since last night. There was no denying that she was - Allan A Dale was not addled. However, the where and the why of the matter had not been revealed to him.<p>

"No."

"Where is she?"

Guy snarled and came within a finger's width of striking Allan, "When I want to talk about my marriage with you, I'll do so." He walked away, "Get out of my sight."

Guy stomped through his empty chamber, wadding his coat up before tossing it into a corner. He noticed that the chair he smashed had been replaced without question. Good - it was about time the servants did something useful. Not bothering to finish undressing, Guy sank into the mattress, an unmistakable gloom loomed heavily over him.

Unlike the night before he did not drink himself into a stupor and felt as though he received the sorry end of the deal. Sleep did not come easily to him and he lay awake staring into the empty room, powerless to stop thinking of her - his wife. No. She was not his wife any longer. She gave up that privilege when she left with Hood. Though in truth, he had to question if having any ties to him was considered a privilege. Is that not why she had taken Robin into her bed - because he was unworthy of her?

Guy buried his head in his pillow and desperately tried to quiet his thoughts. Despite his best efforts, she kept appearing and haunting his slumber or lack thereof. Though he endeavored time and again to wipe her from his mind, she fought back and refused to leave. But she _**had**_ left! And he had let her…

However much he tried to deny it - he had given her good reason to leave with Hood. She was under the assumption that he was on his way to tell the Sheriff. She had been right and he had not changed his objective until the last possible moment. That still did not excuse her actions. Letting Hood get a child on her was the reason that he had gone to the Sheriff in the first place. Even if he was undeserving of her, that didn't give her leave to go behind his back. He had offered to have the marriage annulled and would have gone through with it even if it killed him. But she _**chose**_ to remain wedded to him.

That burned him - she was still his by law and in the sight of God. Even if she despised him and would rather have Hood - she _**belonged**_ by his side. He had every right to force her to come home, unhappy or not. It was the principle of the matter. The question remained - could he tolerate taking her back with the knowledge that she had been unfaithful to him? Could he look upon the child when it was born without seeing a way to hurt his enemy?

He rumbled into the night, he would take her back but that did not mean he would share his bed. As far as the babe went - he would cross that bridge when he came to it. Moreover, if Robin so much as thought of Marian again he would find out - if he hadn't killed him by then…

He was able to reason further on the matter by remembering that Vaisey would begin to wonder where Marian had gone. Allan's ludicrous story would only keep him at bay for so long and it would be unreasonable to announce that his wife had died suddenly and he had buried her next to the barn…

He flipped the bedclothes off and donned his coat, none the worse for wear after lying crumpled on the floor. "Allan!" he shouted, as he made his way to the door. "Get up!"

The railing under his hand was smooth from decades of use, some parts especially were well worn and his fingers trailed over them in particular. The steps made a hollow thunk under his boots and his stirrups clinked on each tread. He didn't care how loud he was being. So what if the rest of the servants in the house were woken from their slumber? If he had to be up at this indecent time of night - why shouldn't they?

After several more screams of his name, Allan stood groggily before him, half dressed, and looking like he had fared little better than Guy in the past few hours.

Guy started out the door, "We're going." He didn't wait for Allan or see if he would follow. He didn't have to - he knew.

Allan could not quite get his mouth to work without sounding like he was choking - apparently it was still asleep like he wished the rest of him was. He opted to remain quiet as a result and dressed as he followed Guy out into the black world. He figured it was for the best that he wasn't able to articulate yet - that way he couldn't question Guy's motivation. There would be no fear of his unchecked temper at present.

Once they were mounted, Allan did regain the use of speech and braved the waters that could smother him without a second thought, "Where we goin'?"

"The outlaw's camp."

"What?" Allan screeched, startling his horse and sending it skittering to the side.

"That's right. And you're going to take me there."

"No."

Guy reached over and grabbed the neck of Allan's shirt, "You'll do as I say or the next being you'll be speaking with will be the Devil, trying to sweet talk your way out of the fire." He shoved him back into his saddle.

"We didn't agree on this."

Guy arched his shoulders, "Agreements get broken."

"I'll not betray my friends." He regretted the words as soon as he had spoken them, true or not.

Guy laughed, "Your friends? Do you think they consider you a friend? You're rawer than I took you for."

Allan sat motionless atop his horse. "I'm not takin' you." Guy's words had stung more than he could have ever imagined. Sadly, he knew Guy was right - they didn't think of him that way anymore. However that didn't justify causing their deaths. Once they had been friends and Allan would cling to that memory.

"You will."

"I'd rather be damned than be a Judas."

"You already are!"

"Go to 'ell."

"Fine! I'll find her myself!"

Allan met Guy's stare and all the unspoken words fell into place, "Marian ran off with Robin?" He knew that Robin had not abducted her. He wouldn't do such a thing unless he feared for her life… Allan puffed out his cheeks in thought, there was so much that Gisborne wasn't saying.

Guy felt his jaw tighten at Allan's words. He didn't wish to acknowledge the question when he wasn't in a position to contradict it. He cursed himself for his thoughtlessness. After all these years, he should have learned never to speak out in anger. "I'm getting her back. She is _**my**_ wife."

Allan didn't know what to do or think. Strolling into camp, leading Guy right to them, wasn't an option. Without a doubt, Gisborne would bring the Sheriff's guards straight back, before he would even have a chance to blink. That's when he saw the pain written out on Guy's features.

Allan gulped hard and flung his head back. What was he doing? He found himself almost whispering his next words, "Fine. I'll take ya."

Guy's only response was to spread his arm out, giving Allan leave to lead the way. Allan shook his head, "First I'll haveta' blindfell you."

Guy snarled, "Is that the only way you'll take me?"

"Yea, it is." He hoped that he had read Guy's intentions correctly. Of course - he never had learned his letters…

* * *

><p>Guy wished he could bloody well see. The helplessness that overcame him the moment Allan wrapped the strip of cloth around his head was enough to make him dismiss his entire design. How he hated to be dependent on another to guide his way. Nevertheless, it was his only logical option - there was no way to change it. Another choice open to him was to beat Allan to an utter pulp and then force him to lead the way. Somehow, it seemed to Guy, to be the preferable of the two. The problem with that alternative was he wasn't quite sure that Allan would cooperate afterwards…<p>

What he was doing now seemed to be his only rational choice, aside from galloping through the woods in hopes of stumbling headlong into the outlaw's hideaway. But most likely, that idea would only get himself shot.

His horse spooked and Guy barely prevented himself from being thrown off. Once the horse settled and he was in far less peril he twisted in the direction he thought Allan was in, "What, in the name of God, happened?"

"Nuthin' -nuthin at all…" Allan said, all to cheerfully.

Guy turned his head again when Allan's voice came from the left instead of the right; the very area his horse had been frightened away from… Guy scarcely contained himself from ripping the cloth off him and smothering Allan with it. "Is there a reason you want to die?"

"What? No! Why?"

"Because if you fail to kill me, as I think you're trying to, be assured I won't."

"Fail to kill yoursel'? What's the point in that, Giz?"

"You know what I meant."

At Guy's deadly tone, Allan felt the need to make up for his unneeded, unwanted correction, "I wasn't trying to be an ass."

"You don't have to try."

Blissful silence prevailed from then on.

* * *

><p>Once Allan removed the blindfold, the forest almost seemed bathed in daylight. Guy used his fingers to massage his eyes, "How far away are we?" They had dismounted the horses and tethered them at Allan's recommendation and Guy trusted that the camp wasn't too much further.<p>

There was a slight hesitation his Allan's voice when he replied, "Not far." Was he afraid? He should be. Allan had informed on Hood and his men, giving up their plans to **him**.

There are some who could argue that Guy had been disloyal to Robin as well. He had worked with the Sheriff against Hood, hadn't he? Guy didn't see it that way. Though they associated when they were children - Guy felt his case was different from Allan's and not able to be considered an act of treachery. There was no love lost between himself and Hood. Any sense of loyalty between them had vanished long ago. You could not betray someone to whom you had no connection. And Robin had ended that bond when he did nothing to prevent Guy and his sister from being banished.

Gisborne's neck stiffened, he had no duty to Hood whatsoever. Each day he put his childhood a little further behind him, though certain memories were still burned into his mind just as they had scorched the earth.

He tried not to hold onto the upsetting thoughts, he needed to keep his focus on the purpose of finding Marian and convincing her to come home. However, at this point in time, Guy felt that he was not beyond using force…

He rallied himself and continued forward. He had come this far and nothing would make him turn back now. Not before seeing her at least. Though bitterly he thought he might regret this entire escapade if he found himself bathed in his own, still warm blood, with Robin leering overtop him. He refused to let that be the case - if anyone died, it would be Hood.

"I won't brook any trouble from you." He tightly held Allan back, digging his fingers into the latter's wrist. He heard Allan emit a subdued noise from his windpipe and felt satisfied.

"Oi - it's not me you're gonna 'ave'ta worry about. It's not like Robin's gonna be happy to see either of us."

"Were you under the assumption I wasn't aware of that?"

"Hey - forewarned is forearmed."

Guy rolled his eyes and released him, wondering how it was that Allan could actually come up with something rational. However, as it was - nothing made sense to him anymore…

After another few minutes of walking through the dark, Guy knew they were close, he could see the golden glow of a fire. Another few paces brought them right to the edge of camp. Allan thrust out his hand to hold Guy back, "Lemme go in first." Guy didn't argue that head and remained concealed in the shadows. Gisborne was darkly pleased that they had gone unnoticed by the outlaws. He was proved wrong again, when a loud voice called out, "Who's there?"

Allan exhaled lengthily, "Here goes." He held his hands up above his head and walked into the dim firelight. Guy watched as four people encircled Allan. Darkness obscured them somewhat but Guy could still make them out. Hood stood in front of Allan preventing him from going further, and then there was the servant, the boy from Locksley, and the Saracen.

"I thought we'd said our peace the last time you showed up uninvited?" Robin said.

"I'm here in behalf of Gisborne," Allan said, arms still high over his head.

Robin lifted his brows, "Gisborne? Is the Sheriff's right hand too afraid to come? Or does he not want to lower his standards and talk with me himself?"

Guy allowed his nails to dig into the palms of his hands while he attempted to think past Hood and keep a look out for Marian. So far he hadn't seen her, though he'd been looking everywhere there was a splash of light.

It was then that he felt something rap against the base of his neck, calling him to attention. Slowly he pivoted around and came vis-a-vis with quite a large stick. Before he could react properly, the staff rammed into his abdomen, so hard that it sent him sprawling out of the bushes and before Robin, on his hands and knees.

"So he did lower his standards after all. Now I'll have to lower mine," Robin said, crouching down on the balls of his feet and leaning over Guy. "You've made a terrible mistake in coming."

Guy gulped air; his stomach throbbed from the staff having knocked the wind out of his lungs. The woodsman - he had forgotten him. "I want to see my wife."

"And what if she doesn't want to see you?"

"Then I'll wait."

"You can wait until the devil and his own are frozen in ice. She doesn't want to see you."

"Let her decide that."

"Fair enough. Then when she sends you away, you won't be able to argue it." He paused and bent a little further down, close enough to smell the dirt, "Remember - I'll have an arrow trained at your back and if you should harm her in any way it will fly true and you'll be dead before you can gasp."

Robin stood aside and gave Guy the space he needed to regain his footing. Guy crossed his arms and made his way past Robin, being careful not to drop his watchfulness. He felt the soft fletching of Hood's arrow brush his cheek in silent reminder. Guy jerked his body away, "I'm here to see my wife. Nothing more." However, everything he believed said otherwise. He should do away with Hood while he had the chance! The Sheriff would consider this reprieve a weakness on his part, another shred of his humanity peaking out. Guy knew that it would be bad form to bring his enemy to his demise here and now, given the circumstances.

To his surprise, Robin let him go by. Guy waited for the sting of the arrow to pierce his spine but when the pain didn't come, he cast a glance behind him. Robin stood staring after him, he appeared to be filled with disgust and was holding his bow securely in his hand. Guy laughed - as if _he_ was any better? The man who had made a whore of his wife looked down on _**him**_?

Guy waited for an armed escort to trail after him but no one followed. He almost wondered if he was going the wrong way or walking into a trap. He hadn't waited for Hood to point out the way to his wife after all… But the look Robin gave told him otherwise, he was headed right.

He no sooner caught sight of her than he felt defeated. She stood under, from what he could make out, a structure made from leaves. She held her head high and unafraid; his spirits sank so deep that they could have drowned in an empty chalice. He would never convince her to come home with him, she was too sure of herself. Guy of Gisborne decided to adopt the same arrogant manner. Two could play at this game.

"I'm here to bring you home."

"Why should I go with you?" she asked, daring him to respond.

"You are my wife. Your place is with me." He wished he could snatch his words back. This is not how he had intended things to go. Alas, his pride refused to let him beg or even ask.

Drawing closer, it was clear to him that she hadn't been sleeping right. Her eyes were reddened and rimmed with dark circles. However much he noticed it - there was nothing left in him that considered showing pity.

"Come back to meet the gallows? Do you think I'm your plaything? A rag doll that you own? That you decide the fate for? I'll decide my own." Marian had her arms folded while she spoke, daring him to respond.

"There would be no hanging."

"How can I believe that?"

He sighed, "By trusting me."

"Trust you? You threatened me. You left me no choice," she said heatedly.

"I found you and Hood," he spewed out the name. "Together. I had every right to tell the Sheriff about your treachery."

"So you did tell him." There was no question in her words, just cold fact.

"I haven't told him," Guy said, silently adding the word 'yet' for his own emotional benefit, reassuring himself that he still held the upper hand. The look she sent his way made him avert his gaze. It was as if she had heard his thoughts.

Guy told himself once more that he hadn't done anything to be ashamed of. She had betrayed him - not the other way around. She should be groveling at his boots, begging him to take her back. Nevertheless, here she was, meeting his eyes, insinuating that he was the one in the wrong. He would not take anymore of her insolence. "You're going with me."

She didn't budge, "No."

Guy wanted to shake her but he restrained himself with great effort and managed to grind out one word, "Why?"

She looked shocked, as if she couldn't believe that he was that thick. She reiterated her previous words to him slowly, hoping that he would be able to grasp her reasons this time, "You threatened me and our baby."

Guy's face darkened and he seized her suddenly, warning her, without any thought to Robin's waiting arrow, "Don't. Don't say that. You should be grateful that I'm willing to take you back while you're carrying Hood's spawn!"

"The baby _**is**_ yours!"

"And you expect me to believe that? After all the other lies you fed me?"

Marian bit down hard on the inside of her cheek; though she was nervous, she didn't want Guy to see. Mayhap this was it. She might not be able to smooth over her transgressions this time. Guy may not be so willing to overlook her faults at a tender word. Worse - he may never believe her again. She had dealt treacherously with his trust one too many times for him to listen to her now - even when she was telling the truth.

She did not look away from him while she spoke, "I swear the child is yours. I've never lain with Robin."

He chuckled, "Again you expect me to believe something from your lips. They spit poison, Marian. You want me to play the addled fool and take your word for it. I'll not trail behind you like a dog waiting for the next kick to my ribs or scrap from your hand. How can I trust anything you say?"

She wanted him to believe her with a fever she didn't know was in her. The thought of a future where he was unable to, made her sick all over again. She hated the thought that he would think ill of her on this account, not when she finally had something sincere to tell him. "Guy, I promise."

Guy released her and pointed at her as if to send her words back where they came from, "Your promises are worth less to me than your wedding vows were to God."

"If that's how you feel why don't you just go?"

"Because I'm doing the honorable thing. I'm going to take you home regardless. You are my _**wife **_- and it is my right before God and man to do as I see fit."

"And if I refuse? If _I_ do what _I _see fit?"

"Do you want to have a child in the forest? To have the Sheriff hunt you like a wild animal? Because he'll notice, sooner than you think, that you're no longer at Locksley. Then he will make it his objective to track you down and execute you. And don't think that being with child will change that. The Sheriff is not one for sympathy.

"I'm being gracious. I'd accept if I were you. Unless you would rather let your baby suffer. Then by all means - stay with Hood."

"And if I return with you - what of the baby?" He had sworn that she would not hang but he hadn't said anything definite of her - their - child. Would he allow an infant he didn't believe to be his, to live under his roof? Or was he using the baby as a ploy to get her home and then use the child to capture Robin?

"You can care for it as you see fit. But don't think for a second I will call it mine."

He departed from her and began walking. It took everything in him to keep from looking back at her. If she didn't come - he wouldn't know what to do… Drag her behind him and force her to Locksley at sword point? Even that would do no good. He would be a lifeless corpse before she could even make a peep of protest.

Marian repressed her self-importance and followed her husband. Everything he said was true - there was no denying it. She believed him; he would not hurt her or the baby. She trusted him even if he didn't trust her. In the fact that he was allowing her back into his life, there was a small amount of forgiveness for her sins against him. It was a start. A small start but a start nonetheless.

She would attempt to begin again with a clean slate. She would try to keep the deceptions at bay and not tangle up her shaky marriage with them again. Marian was not sure if she would be able to succeed but she would make an effort. She had nothing left to account for - Guy knew it all.

She felt her heart shatter when she caught another glimpse of him - the night was more cheerful than his expression. He appeared stone cold and unfeeling. Unfeeling towards her. Marian had always had his devotion until a couple of days ago. It was always him seeking her approval, her affections. Now it seemed to be the other way around. It felt strange to have something that had been so constant, abruptly gone.

Guy halted and looked down at her, "And if I ever catch you with Hood again-" his jaw set and he closed his eyes as if straining to control himself. He did not finish, just continued walking while his unsaid words hung in the air choking the life out of both of them.

Guy placed a hand on her back without warning. His touch was gentle and she felt as though her heart stopped beating with relief. Maybe there was still some hope for a true reconciliation? Then she knew she had been too optimistic, for she realized what he was doing - he was positioning himself between her and Robin.

As he guided her past Robin, she could feel the tension hot and thick in the air.

Robin blocked Guy's path, "You're not taking her."

"She is _my_ wife," Guy said, his free hand slowly inching in the direction of his dagger.

"Do you think I'm going to let her go with you? To her death? You're going to feed her to the Sheriff."

Guy didn't respond. Instead, he calmly started to continue onwards, his breathing hard and deep as he tried to maintain control of his fury.

Truth be told, Robin was scared, not for himself but for Marian. Guy of Gisborne was far from a kind, hearted lamb, he was a wolf who would not take perfidy lying down. Robin knew without doubt that Marian's life could instantly be in danger. It would be weak of him to place her and her child - a child that he wanted with all his soul - at such great risk a second time.

Robin stood his ground, refusing to allow the woman he loved to walk away from him. Even if Gisborne did not hand her over to the Sheriff, it would be wrong of him to let her leave with that fiend. Guy could hurt her without murdering her. Robin was certain that he was more than capable of doing just that.

"I'm not leaving without her," Guy said, determination lacing his voice.

When neither Guy nor Robin refused to back down, Allan stepped between them. He had respect for both men and refused to sit by while they killed each other with their glares - because he was sure it would grow into more than a staring contest soon enough. His heart was pounding so loud that he was surprised he could hear himself speak, "Oi! Take it easy. The Sheriff don't know. No 'arm done." He wished that his declaration would settle the matter but neither man seemed to hear him, or see him for that matter. The way they looked right through him was unnerving. Allan put his hands out trying to put a little more distance between the quarreling parties, "Look - I don't want to start the day off dead."

While Allan waited for the worst, he felt another body stand next to his - it was Will. Allan felt his throat close off. Though it could merely be for Robin's sake that Will was by his side, it was of such great comfort that he nearly broke down. Will might still be his brother-in-arms. Still might count him as a friend. He could only hope - and hope he did.

Will Scarlett looked knowingly at Allan, giving the latter some form of reassurance, and then spoke to Robin, "Think of Marian."

"I am," was the only reply Will received. There was no conceivable way to determine whether or not Gisborne would harm Marian. As of yet, he hadn't. Marian trusted him enough to go with him and put her safety in his bloodstained hands.

Besides killing the man in front of his wife, there was only one way that Robin could completely be sure nothing would befall her. He would follow her and be her silent guardian. Gisborne would never be the wiser. If that is what it took - so be it. Robin did not cower to any man's will but he did respect Marian's decisions, however much he disagreed with them.

Attempting to be the better man, Robin, almost quivering with anger, stood down. He allowed Guy to pass for Marian's sake. He intended to follow them for her own good. Her safety might very well depend on him. Should Guy injure her in any way Robin would not hesitate to kill him. He would be justified and nothing Marian could say would change it.

Edward stood with Djaq waiting for whatever outcome would take place. This turmoil had not been good for him and now he was about to be shuffled around again. There was no doubt in Marian's mind that her father was worried what Guy might do when they were out of Robin's immediate reach. He knew what Guy was capable of - having personally received the brunt of his wrath before.

Marian took his hand in hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze, however much she didn't feel at ease herself. She was ashamed that her father had seen any of this - to see the muddle she had made of both of their lives. She wished that she had escaped from Winchester herself, then none of this would have happened.

She stole one final look behind her and, upon seeing Robin, she spoke a silent _I'm sorry_. Marian held no doubt that this was not the last time she would see Robin though. He still needed her help as did that child that was being kept prisoner by the Sheriff. Once Marian made up her mind, little could change it.

Marian's chest stung for here she was, already planning to keep something from Guy. Hadn't she just told herself to wipe clean all her lies and treachery? Sadly, it seemed like some things would never change. She was unable to cut Robin from her life like the ruined middle of an embroidery work. That being the case, it would be only proper for her to discard the entire project - and Marian wasn't ready to stop living.

Robin raised his hand as he abruptly remembered something, the tumultuous situation Gisborne had caused by entering the camp in the first place had displaced the obvious from his mind, "You led him right too us!" He gave an accusatory stare in Allan's direction.

"No I didn' - I had 'im blindfolded." Allan felt his palms grow wet. He had known this would end badly…

Robin scoffed and Allan knew that he was thinking about his former sedition. Allan studied the ground about his feet, there was nothing he could do or say to convince Robin otherwise. Knowing this himself, Robin, albeit skeptical, decided to place his faith in Allan's empty words.

Before letting them leave, he did insist that Gisborne, Marian, and Edward's eyes be covered. Gisborne would never have to know that Marian and Edward knew the way to the camp. If he insisted that she be blindfolded now, Guy wouldn't be able to pressure her into disclosing the whereabouts of their hideaway. He went to tie the cloth around Marian, intending to whisper in her ear his plan to follow her.

Guy snatched the material from his hand. Gisborne twirled Marian around and tied the knot hard and fast. Robin scowled at Guy, before kindly wrapping the blindfold around Edward's head. This only reinforced his determination to watch over Marian tonight.

Guy's actions enraged Marian. She almost used the skills she had acquired as the Night Watchman at the very moment Guy grabbed her. But for the sake of a ceasefire and her father, she acquiesced to his coarse treatment. Should he try that again, however, he would not find himself so fortunate…

* * *

><p>Wordlessly Guy led Marian to their chamber. She almost wished he would shout, yell - do anything. Even the worst would be better compared to this unsettling quiet. He hadn't spoken another word to her and it brought back his taciturn behavior of the other day. Those actions had led to all of this. However, she could not fully exclude herself from blame in regards to his reaction to her disclosure, no matter how much she would like to.<p>

Anxiously she stepped inside the bedroom and spun to meet Guy. She waited for him to say something. It worried her, what he might utter though. Many times, she had wished that she didn't care about him. That she couldn't. It had always been easier for her to be angry with him. Now she wasn't so sure if that was the case anymore. All she wanted was for him to speak with her. One kind word would sooth her fears.

His eyes swept over the room and rested on her, "You'll sleep here." Nothing else, not even an accusation. He walked out the door and down the stairs.

Marian felt all the strength drain out of her. She sat near the pillows and rested her forehead on her fist. She was too tired to scream and too outraged at his behavior to cry. This was it. She had been moving towards this outcome for as long as she had known him and now she was finally here. What had she done?

* * *

><p>Guy sat in a chair before the fireplace, the flame of which had long since burned out. His chest hurt and he couldn't hold a thought for more than a few seconds. When Allan came and sat across from him, Guy didn't want to acknowledge it. Allan forced him to, when he leaned forward insolently. "What do you want?"<p>

Allan ignored Guy's bitter tone, "Thought you might wanna talk 'bout it now."

"With you? No."

"With who then?"

Guy grimaced, "No one."

Allan slapped his knees, "Sure you do. I'm the only friend you got."

Guy cocked his head, "Is that so?"

"Well you got Marian but you're not bein' too friendly with her right now - aren'tcha?"

Guy didn't answer, only took a sip of the drink he had poured himself.

"You can't stay mad at her forever, Giz."

"Can't I?"

"Nah. Never thought I'd say this but you love her too much."

"Really? And, pray tell, what if, when I am ready to forgive her, she wants nothing to do with me?"

"I wouldn't worry so much about that. I'll tell ya Guy, that wife of yours has a very thick posterior," Allan said, reclining into the chair.

Guy's head shot up and he stared at Allan, brows raised, "You better think that means something other then what it means…"

* * *

><p><em>AN. Sorry that took sososososososo long. I hope that it was worth it… *gulp* I hope that this chapter made sense. Hopefully Guy wasn't too forgiving/Marian too stubborn/Robin too callous. Remember - Marian is pregnant and riding the emotion train at present._

_Robin truly is concerned for Marian. He still loves her very much. _

_I'd like to thank all the anonymous reviewers! Thank you guys! You really mean a lot and I wish I could tell you in person. _

_Thanks to everyone for the encouragement. Even though it didn't seem like this chapter was EVER coming I was working on it steadily. "Humanity" will be finished! I promise! _

_Take care and thanks for reading!_

**CA**


	21. Tarnished

_Tarnished _

It was not as though the day intended to start bad but the downpour had that effect. Guy felt drenched to the bone as he entered the castle. The rain had entered the back of his coat due to the sheer amount of it. He arched his shoulders but still, his soaked undershirt felt like an uncomfortable second skin.

His hair dripped steadily into his eyes from saturated clumps. The insides of his boots felt soggy as well. Guy shivered, the rain had an icy trait to it and it leached through his flesh deep into his marrow.

If Guy of Gisborne had faired this poorly - Allan had faired worse. His cloak, thick as it might be, had taken less than half the journey to be rendered useless. His vest only managed to keep his chest and back a few degrees warmer than the rest of him and his thin shirt had done nothing for his sodden arms. His teeth chattered, vehemently complaining to him, and he was afraid that part of the water trickling down into his mouth was coming from his nose.

Against his better judgment, Allan checked his purse. The uneaten contents of his breakfast were sadly damp but still edible. He retied the cord just as previously distant footsteps grew increasingly louder.

Sir Spencer and Sheriff Vaisey rounded the corner, in animated conversation. They were disgustingly dry.

"Gisborne!" the Sheriff cried, "I see you managed not to float away."

"Yes milord." Guy did not feel that he had the will to deal with the Sheriff today. His neck was stiff from having slept upright in a chair. What little sleep he had gotten that is… It was all he could do to get himself out the door this morning. That was until _**she**_ came down.

To her credit, she was hesitant. She didn't act as if she was in control of everything, neither did she meet his eyes right away.

That alone took him aback - this was not his Marian. His chest muscles cramped. No. _His_ Marian had let Hood into her room - _invited_ him. Moreover, the child that she carried was that of his enemy. She might be _his_ before God and man but he refused to find himself burnt by her pretty flame again. He opened the door; Allan was out there already, hovering under the overhang attempting to maintain some semblance of dry.

"Guy," she said, moving a little quicker down the last three stairs.

He had not bothered stopping. He didn't want to see her, let alone speak with her. Not this morning - he was still too raw. She had only returned with him for the safety of her baby. Not because she loved him.

Allan took notice of the situation, shook his head, and jerked his chin in the direction of Marian. Guy ignored him and knew that if he glanced back, she would be standing on the threshold, watching him.

Now he was unsure whom he wanted to speak to least - Vaisey or his wife. He increasingly trickled onto the stone floor, each splat reminding him how much he would like to dry himself. Guy wondered how long the Sheriff would keep him standing there.

Spencer had made it a priority to position himself precisely in front of Allan, subsequently blocking his path. Allan understood his game and though he should have long ago adopted a healthy fear of Spencer, Allan had yet to find that necessary. With seemingly uncalculated indiscretion, Allan decided to rid himself of the water that continuously flowed past his lashes. Allan shook his head fiercely, and the leftover raindrops flew from him, directly onto Sir Spencer's leering face.

Spencer gave a restrained bellow of outrage while blindly swinging at Allan, who had plenty of time to dodge the blow. Skirting around a seething Spencer, Allan went to stand next to Guy. Neither Guy nor Vaisey had been paying attention to the others; nonetheless, despite Allan looking outwardly oblivious to what had just occurred, Guy knew indisputably that Allan had caused the other knight's outburst.

The Sheriff's face quirked, "Really Spencer, if you've taken to batting at imaginary foes I'll find you some poor lad to spar with. Maybe that stable boy you've been griping about."

Spencer's wounded dignity caused him to mutter something that - should it be made out by human ears - would be counted as decidedly unpleasant.

Vaisey clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "Clean up - the Prince has requested your presence."

Guy felt his breath constrict in his lungs. This was it - Prince John would demand Philip's death. If he could, Guy would be the one to carry out the deed and save him from the show that Spencer would perform. He could see Allan grow swiftly pale; he must have had the same suspicion.

It was then, under this harsh reality, that Guy remembered that he had not looked in on the boy for two days. His own personal problems had overpowered any tendency toward benevolence. Guy dare not go to check on him before he saw the Prince. And after - it might not be necessary…

Spencer caught Guy's eye and gave a wicked smirk. Allan didn't miss it either and it made his skin crawl far worse than sleeping on the ground in mid-summer ever had. Allan knew that Spencer wanted them to squirm and would do whatever it took to accomplish that.

* * *

><p>With great misgiving, Guy and Allan walked to the Sheriff's office. Vaisey and Spencer were already there and the Prince lingered near the window with his arms folded, glaring at the never-ending rain. He tapped his fingers against his arm, impatiently watching. "Why does everything continue to thwart me at every turn?" Guy could not help but cringe at the whine in Prince John's voice. It reminded him of a sword scraping down a stone wall. Did the man truly think that the weather had plotted against him?<p>

The Prince continued, fully aware of their presence but brusquely keeping his back to them as if they had had ample time to admire his front and he was doing them a favor by giving them occasion to appreciate his other half. "I so wanted to walk among my subjects, giving them opportunity to love me up close instead of from afar. But as it stands - I can't bring pleasure to their pathetic lives if I am catching my death of cold."

Guy remained silent, if the Prince summoned them here to insist that they sort out the weather… Guy didn't even want to think on it. Was it possible for his life to scramble anymore out of his hands? He answered his own question - quite possible.

"If this interminable rain ever ends, we will call on my adoring subjects so they can pay their respects to me and tell me in person how honored and grateful they are to provide food from their own mouths for my feast!" On this note, Prince John spun around and gave a clap of his hands. His smile split his face and neither half was appealing.

Allan felt his lips convulse while he held back a snarl. How could this man be so insensible? Unless it was utter cruelty that drove him. Allan did not know, nor did he care to. He was disgusted to be a part of it no matter the motive.

Prince John waived his hand as if they were all insects and he was shooing them along, "Dismissed." He turned back to the window, "And if the heavens close, you can have my riding clothes readied directly!"

Guy didn't dare look at Vaisey. Sent from his own office while the Prince commandeered it for an unknown length of time was enough to damage the ears of anyone close. He was bound to be livid and Guy did not care to play the role of scapegoat. He would let that unfavorable post fall to Spencer if he was imprudent enough to continue shadowing the Sheriff. Gisborne chuckled; see what attempting to assume _**his**_ position got him in this case.

It puzzled him that Prince John had called them together only to dismiss them. He was either trying to assert his indisputable power or-…

"Oh - one more thing. Gisborne. There is something of importance that has been brought to my attention. Your wife - Lady Marian. There is a nasty little rumor going around, that paints her in poor light."

Guy was rigid, what did he know? That Marian had been seeing Hood? That she was carrying his baseborn? Or that she had told Robin about Philip? He could feel the sweat inch its way down his back and he bit his tongue hard to keep himself composed.

"I hoped that it wasn't true but it seems to come from a reliable source…" The Prince trailed off slightly and Guy could swear that he shared a fleeting look with Sir Spencer. Guy felt his blood turn to fire.

Prince John continued, "I have been informed that your wife used to be betrothed to Robin Hood. Is there anyway to disprove this unjust accusation?"

"No my liege. It is true." While Guy acknowledged this fact, something told him that the Prince never really questioned its authenticity for an instant.

"I see." Prince John pressed a finger to his lips in contemplation. "You do realize that this places doubt on her love for me - correct?"

Guy's face felt hot, "I do."

"And do you have any way in which she can prove her love for me - and only me?"

Guy held back a sharp retort. The only one he wanted his wife loving was himself. He pressed his teeth harder on his tongue. Guy forced himself to remember that right now he did not want or need her love.

"Marian was betrothed to him years ago, your Majesty. She has put that time behind her." Guy hoped that no one could tell that he was lying. "She is loyal to the cause."

"Yes, yes. But is there a way to _**prove**_ it?"

Guy took a deep breath before speaking, "She married me." In truth that was the worst reason he could have given because, in her eyes, that didn't mean a thing…

"I suppose - but do think on it. I'd like further proof."

Giving a curt nod, Guy turned and left the room. Vaisey and Sir Spencer were just ahead of him while Allan stayed a few steps behind. When Spencer separated from the Sheriff, Guy pursued him, quickly picking up speed when Spencer realized what was happening.

Allan skidded to a halt while Guy pressed his forearm into Spencer's windpipe. Some part of Allan felt that he should be horrified at this act of violence but that part was so very small that he couldn't even fathom a valid reason for its existence. That bloke deserved it and Allan wasn't going to be the one to kick up a fuss.

* * *

><p>Spencer could not breathe. He felt the air around him but none filled his lungs. His head felt large, as if it were three times the size of his body, while black circles dotted his vision. He felt like collapsing due to lack of air and sadly found that Gisborne was stronger than himself. As much as he'd like to stew on that - he didn't have the time. His knees were buckling, causing him to rely on Gisborne's hold against his throat to support him, in turn making him choke all the more.<p>

Earlier it had seemed doubtful that Gisborne would attempt to murder him at this point in the game. Now though - he had to reassess the matter. It appeared doubtful that he _**wouldn't**_. His nails dug into Guy's arm while he endeavored to push him away. His father would consider this a shameful death, even worse than a hanging. To be strangled by the power of your own enemy… There was no honor in that.

Guy remained fixed where he was, placing a steady pressure on Spencer's neck. He leaned in, "I could kill you now." He pushed his arm in a little more. He spoke slowly, drawing each word out, keeping Spencer pinned and suffering as long as he could. "But you're not worth my time. However if you try to place doubt on Marian again - I will kill you."

Guy removed his hold suddenly and Spencer dropped to the floor in a coughing fit. Sir Spencer wrapped his hands about his own throat, softly caressing the bruised flesh. Another choking spasm overtook him as he struggled to stand. He slumped to the ground again, the rough surface digging into his knees. He allowed one hand to support him in order to keep his head off the cold stones. He could feel the grit wedge under his nails as he curled his fingers.

He was disgraced. If his father had been here - no. His father was not here and he would not allow himself to dwell on what the former would have to say on the matter. He lifted his head to watch as Gisborne and A Dale walked away. He would not be made the fool. There were more than enough ways to prove himself. To Gisborne. The Prince. All of Nottinghamshire. Fortunately, he knew just how to do it…

* * *

><p>Marian didn't bother to feign appetite. Besides the morning's nausea, she had too much weighing her down to attempt to make an effort. A myriad of questions troubled her and almost all of them had to do with Guy. Her marriage - something sacred that she had wanted time and again to fix - was in ruins at her feet. Had Guy overlooked her faults so many times that she just assumed that he would keep on forgiving?<p>

What would happen now? When the baby came? Would he continue to sleep elsewhere? If so, how long would it be before he allowed himself to dally in the arms of another woman rather than sully his hands with her?

Marian found herself wishing things back the way they had been before he had stumbled upon her and Robin. She surprised herself by this realization when, in actuality, she had never wished to marry Guy in the first place. Could all of this be the result of that? Her heart's secret desire to be free of him? The more she questioned it, the more confused she felt. Still in defiance of all that had happened, she had discovered something. It was no longer an attempt, or a challenge. She found that, with the sudden removal of his affections, she loved him. It seemed that her feelings had grown more pronounced and open to herself with this catastrophic turn of events. Try as she might - there was no way to deny it. Sadly, it might be too late now.

Edward laid his spoon down and looked closely at his daughter and then at the meal set out before him. There was no need for him to speak for Marian knew his intentions. He was refusing to eat if she didn't. Touched and irritated at the same time, Marian tried to eat something - if not for herself, for her father and the baby.

She managed a few mouthfuls before she allowed her bowl to be taken. "I'm going to Nottingham," she announced, standing up and brushing her hands down her dress. She tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear and continued before her father could question her judgment, "I won't be long." She bent down and kissed his forehead, silencing any protest she could see him mustering. She had to talk with Guy.

* * *

><p>Philip could not deny that he wished for more of the crusty bread that he had gnawed on the night before - unsavory as it was. It was not as awful as it could have been - once you got past the weevils that is… In all honesty, he was grateful to have anything.<p>

The growling of his stomach had woken him. He wasn't tired anyway - sleeping was all he had to do. Nevertheless, when he was not asleep he was preoccupied with the outcome of his life. His uncle would not let him leave Nottinghamshire alive…

He found no need to be startled when he heard someone come down the stairs. His uncle had made a similar appearance the day before, having the cheek to ask him if he loved him. His forehead furrowed when he saw Allan and Sir Guy. He figured they had forgotten him. He felt enraged at their audacity to ignore him - for two days - and have the face to come back.

Philip crossed his arms unhappily and informed himself that there was no real reason for them to check in on him. They were not his wet nurses. He knew he was being childish and he hated himself for it. He kept his chin up, making eye contact; he didn't want them to see him debase himself any more than he already had.

The first thing Allan did was remove the coin purse from his hip. "Here eat," he said, giving it a gentle shake.

Philip only hesitated a second to swallow his pride - as his stomach was mostly empty anyway, this was not a difficult task. Philip reached for the bag, and Allan transferred the pouch to his hand. It was damp but food was food. Prince John and Sheriff Vaisey might have scorned at the contents of the package but to Philip it was a meal fit for a king.

"Go on then. Its all yours," Allan said, with a pleased grin. Lately, it wasn't often that he felt the pleasure of doing a good deed.

Guy looked at the boy and felt torn in two. Just days ago he had concluded that he would be unable to murder him and now - now he was counting on it. A mercy killing. This was the only way to truly save him.

Marian wanted there to be some way to free the boy. Unfortunately, that was not an option. Guy could not just unlock the door and let him loose. The Sheriff would know and he would be condemned to death. There was no way to save the child without incriminating himself. There would be no accounting for his whereabouts if he were involved in such an occurrence. Unless…

Immediately he felt as if rocks pummeled his whole being. No. There was not a chance in hell! It felt as if the thought was a rat and it was chewing on his skull from the inside - trying to see the light of day. Not over his dead body would he do something so against his feelings. Guy of Gisborne would rather fall on his own sword. And yet the only other option left open to him was to kill the boy or allow Spencer to. Nothing could leave a more repulsive taste between his teeth…

Philip was staring. Guy straightened; his previous reflections must have left him looking disheveled. He knew Allan had seen it too and that made him uncomfortable, "Go stand guard." He had nothing further to say and therefore silently passed the child a flask of watered down wine.

Allan did not question Guy, though the wild look that had passed over him was worrisome. Giz hadn't hurt Philip before - what reason did he have not to trust him? Still he felt a million small doubts burrow inside him like maggots in rotting meat. If anything - the person Allan needed to worry about was Sir Spencer. He could only have faith that Robin and the gang would save the boy in time.

Philip wasn't as thirsty as he had been before - though the dish water that he had been given was far less than to be desired. He was certain that his uncle had given explicit instructions for him to receive the worst treatment feasible. The wine Sir Guy provided was sour - nothing compared to the high quality his grandmother served. That was long in the past - beggars could not be choosers. It was better than anything he'd had for two days.

He hadn't quite finished when Allan rushed down the steps and almost tripped at the bottom. His eyes were bright with something that Philip couldn't quite place and from the look of it - he really didn't want to.

Allan was breathing hard, "I heard somethin' and went and looked - Spencer - 'e has that stable boy. He's beating him to death."

Guy didn't trust Allan for an unexaggerated account, and years of Vaisey's tutelage left him somewhat unaffected. "Go tell the Sheriff," was the first thing that came to his lips.

"He's watchin' - him and the Prince. It's like a bleeding fair out there!"

Wordlessly Guy started up the steps. Allan didn't wait to catch his breath before he ran after him, with a hope and a prayer that there was something to be done and Gisborne would take a stand and do it.

The rain had ceased, leaving only puddles. Guy surveyed the area. First, he spotted the Sheriff and Prince John and Guy turned in the direction they were fixated. Allan had not been lying. Spencer was in the courtyard and had something gripped in his hand. It took Guy a moment to recognize the stable lad. Spencer had a hold of his shirt and Guy couldn't mistake the sickening noise when a fist connects with flesh.

It appeared that was not the first time the lad felt Spencer's hand. When Spencer released him, the boy fell backwards and lay still. Either having learned to stay down or unable to stand.

Sir Spencer bent and took hold of the boy's hair and punched him again as the child twisted awkwardly back onto the ground. "Oh my," Prince John said, pressing the fingers of his right hand to his mouth. Although the words could be taken to mean revulsion and shock, Guy could easily tell that the King's _dear_ brother was enjoying the display.

That was when the entire spectacle made sense - this wasn't to punish the boy - this was for the Prince. Guy's stomach twined about itself, Spencer was using this charade to _earn_ the right to kill Philip. If he put on a grandiose enough show - the Prince would bestow the _**honor**_ on him.

Guy was positive he was correct, that was until Spencer looked his way. The gleam in his eyes was unmistakable - he wanted Guy to see this. This wasn't a mere punishment for some petty crime or only an elaborate display for Prince John - this was an exhibition put on for his benefit as well.

He wanted Guy to see him kill this child so that he would know what Philip would be facing. So that he would be forced to make a choice. He could guess the other part of Spencer's plan without having to think.

Spencer was dragging this out trying to get him to intervene. Guy knew if he did, the Prince would inevitably choose Spencer for the task of murdering Philip - declaring Guy too soft. Then the only way he would be able to save Philip undo agony would be to kill him without permission. Doing so would put his life and the lives of those in his protection at risk. Was he willing to chance that? If not - he had to hold his ground now.

Guy realized that help would not come from another source. No one other than guards and a few stray passersby were near and they either didn't care to or were too frightened to step in. Although fear and callousness didn't play a role on his part - Guy couldn't declare himself their better. How could he justify saving one boy from suffering while abandoning another?

When Spencer struck again Guy winced as if he too felt the impact and became sickened at not only Spencer but also himself. Guy of Gisborne had so many things in his life to atone for he couldn't allow this to join the growing list. Everything he did was a choice and he made a choice in regards to his humanity. Knowing and damning the consequences, Guy turned to the Sheriff, "Milord, what has the boy done?" There was no response. "Milord!"

Vaisey looked down at him from the top of the stairs; he was shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun. Guy repeated his query and received an uninformed response.

Guy continued, "Milord, what's the point of this?" Nothing. The Sheriff didn't bother to look in his direction for that question. Vaisey had dismissed him. Guy heard the Prince snigger behind his hand. There was no point in appealing to them; his words fell on deaf ears. Spencer on the other hand… "Enough!"

Spencer kicked at the body by his feet. Guy couldn't tell if his demand was pointless or not, there was no way to check the stable lad for life. Only the moan that escaped the boy signaled that he wasn't too late. "I said enough!" He grabbed Spencer from behind and, collecting all his strength, hurled him away. Spencer tumbled from the force. Guy watched his face scrape the ground and could hear his clothing rip; it took all his will not to run him through. If Spencer were dead, the majority of his problems would follow. Nonetheless, he did not dare risk killing him in front of the Prince unprovoked.

He knelt down to the motionless boy, his small battered and bruised body lay helplessly before him. He could hear the clatter Spencer's boots made when he jumped to his feet and the swearing that accompanied it. Guy pulled his dagger out and readied himself for a fight. Spencer would not be expecting a weapon so small and it gave him the advantage of surprise. If he were to kill Spencer now, it would be in self-defense. It was then that he saw Allan step in between him and Spencer.

* * *

><p>"Get out of the way," Spencer said, the side of his face stung when he spoke. For this outrage, he could easily picture the Prince allowing him to kill Gisborne without any further exertion on his part. What a sweet image to fall asleep to. He steadied himself when he felt his legs wobble from his fall. He had to remain composed; he had to show competence. He had waited his entire life for this opportunity and he would not waste it.<p>

His father had spared nothing in having him trained. He had learned at the feet of the best sword masters in the land. More blood and sweat than he carried in his entire being had gone into his training. His father had wanted him to be prepared to take back what should have been his. Spencer had licked the boots of countless men to get to where he was. He balked at no task, no execution to menial. None too amoral.

Nevertheless, as his son flourished and forged a name for himself and his family - his father still treated him as if he was lacking in some respect. Spencer stood seething, that would change. That man's boot would no longer crush him under its heel. Once this ended - he would have his father's respect.

* * *

><p>Allan knew he should have felt fear but only determination seemed to be present. Just a few short years ago, his makeup would have been to flee, but here he was facing down Sir Spencer again. Much was not in danger this time - nor Djaq, Robin, Will, or John. Oh how he wished they were here to back him up. Sadly, he only had Gisborne who might change his mind at the drop of a leaf - or a word from the Sheriff…<p>

This time he was protecting a boy he had only known to order about. However, if this was how Allan could make up some of his wrongs - allow God and man to see him atone for his choices at the cost of his own life - then so be it. Allan was ready. If he did die, then he would do so knowing that he had accomplished one final act of kindness. Maybe Will would even visit his grave and fully offer his forgiveness. Perhaps Djaq would cry over him. If he pushed it - he could even see Robin feeling some form of remorse for refusing to give his mercy when it would have done the most good.

* * *

><p>"What is the meaning of this?" Prince John wailed - bringing to Guy's mind a scruffy tom seeking attention.<p>

Hastily Guy bent down further, pressed a hand to the child's shoulder and whispered into his ear, "Stay down." Guy stood, "My liege, I was merely preventing Spencer from making a serious error."

"What error? This was quite like an entertaining gladiatorial battle. May the best man win."

Guy felt a disagreeable taste curdle twice over on his tongue. This was not a fair contest! This was between a grown man and a child! Guy felt sick at himself. He had suggested the Sheriff organize something similar in the past. A festival of pain.

"Your Grace, this boy cannot love you if he is dead."

His words had the desired effect and he wondered how many more times he could use that pretext. Prince John paused and appeared in intense contemplation. He rubbed his hand across his chin as he weighed what Guy said.

Allan chimed in, adding to Guy's argument, "I heard 'im saying how much he loved you. Couldn't get him to shut up 'bout it." Allan was sure if he were to confide to a man of God about the outright lie he had told that he would be given a discourse containing numerous mentions of hellfire.

The Prince, rationalizing that the child could not shout his adoration from the grave, called off the display with an exaggerated flick of his wrist. "Very well. Let him live in order to go on loving me. But - I fully expect him to be grateful for my generosity." He waggled a finger in the direction of the prone boy and it took all Allan had left in him to keep from rolling his eyes at the absurdity of it all.

* * *

><p>Spencer bent his head back and exhaled, exerting himself to remain calm. There was an end in sight; he would just be forced to wait a little while longer. He didn't bother attempting to redirect his gaze, he let it fall and linger on Gisborne. There could be no doubt that his countenance conveyed every feeling of loathing that was present on the earth.<p>

Prince John approached, but still kept a sizeable distance between himself and the child. He motioned for Spencer to come closer. "Walk with me, Sir Spencer. There is something that I have been meaning to speak with you about. A task that I think you will be found most suited for." Spencer smiled.

* * *

><p>Guy motioned for one of the guards, "Get him up. Put him in the stable and bring a bucket of water." When the guard hesitated, Guy yelled, "Now!"<p>

Guy released the guard once the water arrived and Allan spared no time in sloshing a stiff, dry cloth about in it. As he wrung it out over his patient, blood and dirt ran in streaking lines into the bed of hay. Allan was afraid to touch him lest he harm him further.

The boy's mouth was set in a thin line, his lips sucked in while he silently tried to manage the pain. There was no doubt that the boy's ribs were bruised if not cracked and his head had taken a nasty pummeling as well. Allan felt it would be better if he passed out.

Guy lingered by the door. There was nothing further he could do - why cause the child further distress? He watched what Allan was doing and cringed. Allan's bedside manner was deplorable. He was going to drown the boy… Guy shook his head; sighing, he tipped it backwards and let it rest against the doorframe. Letting his eyes close, he was sure that Satan himself had better days.

It was impossible for him to excuse letting Spencer kill this child so he could bestow mercy on another. But in saving one he had let the other down. Philip would die suffering… There _was_ another way. A way that he didn't want to consider previously, suddenly he couldn't get it out of his head.

When he heard noise outside, he stood to his full height, tightening his fingers around his sword. Spencer. There was no doubt that it was him. It didn't matter the reason he came - Guy would relish in the death of him. There would be no witnesses to contradict whatever story he chose. Save Allan of course and if he knew what was good for him he would back up whatever lie was told.

He drew his blade and let the shadows hide him just behind the maw of the stable. The steps grew closer and Guy raised his sword, licking the sweat gathering at his top lip. The steps stopped just outside. Guy leaned forward anticipating the next move. Another step. Guy started to swing and Marian entered the stable…

* * *

><p>"Couldn't Marian go to the castle and leave a window open? Maybe the one in Gisborne's room?"<p>

"Who says Gisborne has a room at the castle, Much?"

"It would make sense to me. He would need a place to sleep if he had to stay. Remember that girl, Annie? How do you think-"

"I don't want to talk about that, Much."

Much closed his mouth without finishing. Mentioning that was bad timing when Robin was still sore about Marian leaving with Gisborne. It had been her choice… No one forced her to go.

"Besides God knows what he'll do to her if he finds out she was a part of it."

"Well what about Allan?"

"No."

"But didn't he volunteer to help? And, if you remember, Robin, he helped me."

"And then he brought Gisborne straight to our camp. No, Much. Not Allan."

"Then what are you planning on doing?" Much demanded, finally incensed at Robin's unwillingness to cooperate with any of his suggestions. Although it was not an unusual occurrence to say the least.

Robin gave him half a smile and patted Much's shoulder, "We'll think of something."

Much harrumphed, "You mean _you'll_ think of something and I'll _blindly_ follow you." In his exuberance he had swung the spoon out of the pot and Robin had to duck to avoid getting struck in the face.

Robin was bent over, hanging onto his knees, nearly howling with laughter as he looked up into Much's shocked expression. His friend was staring at the spoon like it was possessed by some sort of devilry and had dared jump out of the stew on its own.

"You're right, Much," he said, attempting to recover some of his composure but failing. "That's exactly what we will do." How badly he had needed that release of tension. How glad he was that he had let go of his anger toward his friend.

* * *

><p>Guy jerked backwards, dropping the sword in the hay where it made a light crunching sound. He stumbled but caught himself. Merciful God!<p>

Marian wore her shock well. She knew from Guy's reaction that the sword hadn't been intended for her. She remained collected - she had lived through far worse - oddly enough also brought on by one of Guy's blades. "The guards said I would find you here."

Meanwhile Allan had jumped to his feet, "Oi! What the devil is goin' on?" He looked from Gisborne to Marian. "You trying to bleedin' kill her?"

Marian heard Guy growl in an attempt to silence Allan. Then she heard a moan. She turned in Allan's direction and saw - lying at his boots - a small figure.

Without another look at Guy, Marian approached the body and bent down to it. Lightly she touched an already purpling cheek. The child groaned and Marian pulled her hand away. Turning to Guy, she demanded an explanation.

Guy sneered, sure she had concluded the worst about him. He blew a gust of air between his teeth making a sharp T sound, "Not I."

"Who?"

"Spencer. Trying to prove himself to the Prince."

Guy took a stride in her direction and towered over her while she crouched next to the boy. He was too angry to speak further in his defense.

Fearing that the hostility would escalate more, Allan spoke up, "He stopped it, Marian."

Marian felt her throat grow tight. "Guy-." She had come to speak about what had happened between them, not to accuse him unjustly as she knew he supposed.

Guy made a disgusted noise, "Whatever you have to say can wait."

Anger and pain filled her as she turned back to the boy and gently stroked his hair. Marian held her hand out to Allan, palm up. He handed her the cloth and watched while she painstakingly wiped the blood from the child's face. "What's his name?"

The question was directed at no one in particular, so Allan took it upon himself to answer it, "Dunno."

Frustrated she turned back to Guy, who lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted response. Why should he bother with her questions?

She continued to properly clean the boy, "Send someone for the healer."

If not for the circumstances, Guy would have muttered his exasperation. That woman was the last person he wanted to see. "She doesn't see to people unless they pay," he said. "She's not one for charity."

"Then you'll pay," she said, giving all her focus to the hurt child.

Guy set his teeth and spoke to Allan, "Go get her." He couldn't argue with any of it - not when he had stood stoically by, nearly allowing Spencer to kill the boy.

Allan didn't object to being sent this time and with him gone, Guy resumed his position by the door. He continued to maintain an interest in what she was doing. He had to admit that she was a far better nurse than Allan proved to be…

Upon hearing someone approach a quarter of an hour later, Guy was determined not to make the same mistake twice. He did decide to take the precaution of withdrawing his dagger.

Sheriff Vaisey entered and looked from Marian to Guy. "Playing happy families? Isn't it enough to be pretend Papa to one? You're going to start collecting them now?"

From across the room, Guy could almost feel the hair on Marian's neck rising. For once, the Sheriff spoke the truth. "Marian was concerned about the boy. I stayed to make sure no ill befalls her."

Vaisey lifted his eyebrows, "Glad to see your wife is still among the living. I would have thought that by now she would be squirming in a pile of her own mucus."

Guy's fervent desire was that she keep her mouth closed. "She is feeling better today, Milord." He glared a warning at Marian when she sat back on her heels to protest the entire conversation.

"Excellent! Now that she is mostly done bearing any resemblance to livestock - I decided that it would be a treat for the two of you to come to the castle tomorrow evening. A little 'getting to know the Prince party' before the actual party."

At Marian's perplexed expression, Vaisey asked, "Why - hasn't your doting husband told you about the upcoming feast? Gisborne - shame shame." He looked Marian up and down, "Perhaps your mind was elsewhere."

Marian felt dirty. A small part of her wanted to turn away but she remained defiant - fixing him with an unflinching stare. That man would not cow her.

"So - what say you, Gisborne? Dinner with the Prince tomorrow? I am sure he would love to get better acquainted with your blushing bride and congratulate you on baby Winchester!"

Marian held back her revulsion at the Sheriff's last statement and hoped that Guy would make an excuse. Surely, regardless of his anger, he would at least do that for her. She caught his eye begging him to give the Sheriff their apologies.

Guy remained quiet for some time. She could see he was thinking, contemplating, considering. What - she did not know. It was a long minute before he slowly nodded his head in assent. "Of course, Milord."

Marian felt her spirits sink. Guy's face held no emotion whatsoever.

Vaisey smiled and turned to take his leave, "Don't play in the hay too long, Gisborne. I expect you back soon. And Gisborne, if you choose to do something that profoundly merciful again, I'll have you turned into the woman you're trying so hard to be."

Marian balled her hands into fists, and returned to her task. Her stomach felt rock hard, filled to the brim with her anger. First at Vaisey, who worked against her in every way, then at Guy. He easily could have dismissed the offer, but he had not. She wanted to know his reasons but found herself no longer privileged to them.

The little boy whimpered and Marian petted his head and whispered nonsensical things to him. Guy watched with a curious eye. He pictured her as a mother, tending to the baby she herself carried. He choked. A baby that he could not believe was his. The moment disappeared - his head was clearing again, unclouded by emotion.

When he spotted Allan approaching with the healer, Guy left. Let Allan look after them - he had planning to do. With the Sheriff's dinner invitation, he found a door opened to him and he wanted to get his foot inside before it closed. He went to Locksley, there was something he needed to make certain was still in his possession…

* * *

><p>Gisborne entered his chamber at the castle, praying that what he sought would be here as it was not at Locksley. Discovering that the occupants of the barn had all relocated to said chamber - Guy raised his brows.<p>

Marian's face showed an extreme amount of haughtiness and if it had not been for their recent falling out, he would have allowed himself to be amused. She spoke first, "You were nowhere to be found. And so when I was unable to get your approval - I took it upon myself to grant mine."

"You take a lot upon yourself," Guy said. He could not deny that while Spencer was on his bloodthirsty prowl, his prey was safer here. "Allan, you're needed." There would be no way to obtain what he had come for with Marian there. It would have to wait.

Reluctantly Allan left the bedside. Both Marian and the healer stayed behind, hovering over the little boy, who - to Guy - looked much smaller than he was, laying there. He seemed too pale, except for the dark colored marks staining his face. He wondered what unspeakable concoctions the herbalist would insist he drink. Liver of guard? Eye of virgin?

They walked in silence for a while before Allan spoke, "He hasn't stirred much."

Guy didn't say anything. What could he? He supposed he could comment on how it was another great feat of Spencer's - to have nearly killed a second child. So terrifying and monstrous they were that it took such bravery to slay them. Guy shook his head, he wouldn't say those things. There was no point to be made by them and nothing to be gained. He was not seeking Allan's agreement.

Guy found the Sheriff hunched over his table admiring the replica of England, probably gloating over Sussex. He remembered something the Sheriff had told him in the first days after Winchester had taken Marian - after Guy let him. 'Stop your sniveling, Gisborne,' the Sheriff had said, 'I lost something to Winchester too - far more important than your flighty little leper. I LOST SUSSEX!" He had screamed the last part, a phrase he had been carrying on about for days, into Guy's face. His headache had worsened.

That was in the past and nothing turned out how he had expected it to. Not even himself. Guy cleared his throat and waited. The torches brightly flickered, giving off enough light to see the center of the room. The Sheriff made no move to raise his head, "What is it Gisborne?"

He inhaled, "I request that Allan accompany me to dinner tomorrow."

"Changing tastes, Gisborne? Surely there are better samples than that."

Guy shuddered, and could tell Allan wanted to defend himself. He elbowed Allan in the ribcage, before continuing. "As protection for Marian."

"Protection from whom?" He still didn't bother to look up.

"I do not trust Spencer, Milord."

"That's a shame really," said a voice from the doorway. "I thought we were in common cause, Gisborne?"

Guy turned in the direction Spencer approached from, "Well it seems to me that you find enjoyment in harming things that are harmless." He was not about to inform him that Marian was more than capable of harming _**him**_.

"Only when it is required. You can't tell me, Gisborne, that you have never derived pleasure from a less than wholesome task?"

Guy remained silent. He could not contradict him but the shame that seemed to nip at his heels bothered him. God forbid the Sheriff find out what he felt.

Spencer continued speaking while he advanced, "My father always believed that the law was something that had to be maintained."

Guy scoffed, "What was the boy doing? Committing treason against the crown?" How ridiculous his words sounded to his own ears when they were doing that very thing.

"No. But the law makes provision to receive redressing. He dishonored me and I dealt with it on my own."

"If your father found the law to be so precious, wouldn't he be displeased that you didn't seek a higher authority first?" Guy hoped that the Sheriff would take offence to Spencer's deeds when portrayed in such a light and see them as a direct insult to his power.

"Had the Sheriff not approved of my actions he would have said. As it is - my father also held that the law could be used to remind the people of their place. At times a public beating - or even an impromptu hanging - can have the desired effect."

* * *

><p>The boy's name was Morgan. He was an orphan, his mother died in childbirth and his father hung for poaching. He had one older brother who was in the Holy Land fighting for the King alongside his master.<p>

Marian had remained by the young boy's side until he was resting more peacefully. She felt furious each time she looked at him. What right did Spencer have to do this to another human being?

She couldn't help but think that while Guy had stopped this, he wouldn't stop the murder of the King's son. It was possible that Robin might not be able to prevent it either. With all his talk of plans, sometimes they were as undependable as a weak bow. More than once he had nearly been killed. His response to that statement would be to draw attention to the word _nearly_.

Now that the Prince had seen sport, who knew how much longer he would wait. Marian feared that he would demand it at the feast the Sheriff spoke of or worse - tomorrow at dinner. There wasn't much time and what little remained needed put to good use. Marian made a choice.

* * *

><p>Guy watched Marian ride off. Only the Lord knew how much he wanted to follow her and see if she snuck off to see her lover. He didn't try to repress his suspicions; he knew they would never go away. He could never trust her. Wasn't that what a marriage was about? Trust? Not trysts. He hoped he could one day carve that with his bare hands into the slab of wood over Hood's grave.<p>

He let Spencer's victim stay in his room. It wasn't as if he needed to sleep there. Guy did not intend to sleep at all that night. He had to think about his plan and he didn't trust Spencer not to finish what he had started. He owed the lad that at least.

Earlier he had sent Allan down with some decent bread for Philip. Guy did not have the gall to face him right now, not after the beating of the stable boy. Not when Philip's words from what seemed like an eternity ago would leap out at him. Liar.

A year ago he wouldn't have given any of this a backwards glance. He would have said it was not his problem anymore; it was Spencer's. Though that should provide some sliver of relief, it failed in that regard. In fact, it made it that much worse.

"Oi, when can we go home?" Allan said from behind. He looked in the same direction, but Guy doubted that he saw the same things he did.

"We're not," Guy never turned away from Marian's disappearing figure.

"What'daya mean 'we're not?'"

"We're staying here tonight. I need to think without any unnecessary distractions."

"Marian's a distraction?"

"She always has been."

"Wait - now you're soundin' like the Sheriff."

"Maybe he's right."

"You can't mean that."

Guy knew he didn't but would not admit that to Allan, "When I want your counsel I'll ask for it."

Guy left Allan staring at an empty landscape and soon found himself outside his chamber. He entered; the young boy was in the middle of the bed with the blanket pulled to his chin. He couldn't be that much older than Philip…

Guy shut the door and approached the bed. At the sound of the door closing, the lad woke up and immediately flinched into the paillasse. Guy could not blame him. It wasn't as though he had extended the hand of friendship to him. He had been no kinder than Sir Spencer.

"What did you do to Spencer?"

The boy, looked down ashamed, "I don't know, Sir."

"Surely he gave you a reason?"

"He told them I had been insolent. But I swear I wasn't - I don't even know what that means. I swear on my mother's grave, Sir!"

Guy believed him. Nothing could make Guy think that this nervous child had been disrespectful to Spencer. He was scared of his own shadow and more frightened of Guy's. Now Philip on the other hand - Guy could believe. However, this child appeared to be the complete opposite of Philip.

He didn't reply before stepping away from the bed. Guy walked over to his desk, and opening a drawer, thanked providence when he pulled out a piece of cloth. Crushing it tightly in his hand, he quit the room. His plan might have a chance after all.

* * *

><p>The moonlight guided her steps as she tied the mask at the back of her head and pulled the material over her mouth. Lastly, she hid her hair with her hood and silently opened the door. She didn't make a sound when she slipped down the stairs, nor when she stepped out into the night. She made her way to the stable at Locksley where the air was musty and thick. All the same, the smell was refreshing, it made her feel free. Marian readied her horse and galloped to Nottingham.<p>

She felt no regret in her task. She would have, had Guy returned home. Being as how he hadn't - or sent a message telling her where he was - she didn't feel remorse for what she was about to do. If he did not feel responsible to account for his whereabouts then neither did she. Besides he would never know - until it was too late that is.

A small piece of her kept begging that she turn back, not for her own sake, but for that of her unborn baby. If something happened to her - no nothing was going to happen. There was another life at stake - Philip. A life the Prince wanted snuffed out like an unneeded candle. Marian could not take a chance that the Prince would wait. Besides, there was no doubt in her mind that she could take care of herself if trouble arose.

She intended to sneak inside the castle and down to the dungeon, free the boy and take him to Robin where he would be safe. Maybe Robin and his men would be able to get in, but the Night Watchman would certainly have no trouble evading the guards. Sometimes there was not power in numbers after all.

* * *

><p>The castle was damp and Marian felt like the only living soul creeping through the halls. Her cloak flowed out around her when she took several quick, fast strides. She knew that she was well ahead of the guards - she had made certain of that, having watched them for some time before her entrance through the narrow window. A window she had made certain was unlatched before she had taken her leave of Guy. Drawing a long breath, she continued; the dungeon was still too far away for her liking.<p>

* * *

><p>Spencer could not sleep, his mind refused to quiet down. Everything was going as it should but he was anxious to fulfill the rest of his scheme. Fortunately, the Prince had granted him his wish - suggested it even. Once he earned and managed to retain the Prince's partiality, Gisborne would be easy to discredit.<p>

It was these thoughts that nearly distracted Spencer from the shadow that passed over his door. Spencer knew the shifts of the guards better than his own knuckles, and they should not be there at this time. Noiselessly he rose out of bed, pulled his pants over his braies and grabbed the loose shirt that he had draped over his chair. He tugged it on as he approached the door, combing a hand through his long hair. He removed his dagger from its sheath and lastly snatched up his boots.

There were several possibilities as to whom he would encounter. And Sir Spencer dearly hoped that the Sheriff was not one for sleepwalking… Sheriff Vaisey made him grossly uncomfortable and while he perfectly repressed the feelings of revulsion, he didn't want to place himself in any undesirable situations.

Easing the door open, Spencer stuck his head out and stopped dead. He had heard of this apparition. This Night Watchman. He worked with Robin Hood. He could just imagine how pleased the Sheriff would be to know the identity of this masked devil. That fact alone would go in his favor. Spencer smirked in pleasure - this would be good.

Common sense would dictate that he should call for the backup of the castle guards incase trouble arose. Alas - Spencer seemed oblivious of that particular faculty at this moment. He refused to let them steal the glory from him. How much better it would look if he single-handedly apprehended one of the Sheriff's most sought after outlaws. "You," he said with a low voice. "The Sheriff is going to be pleased to meet you."

He expected him to run, what Spencer did not predict was for the Night Watchman to stand his ground. Nor did he anticipate that the Night Watchman would make the first attack.

Spencer's head snapped to the side and he tasted his own blood. He pulled backwards as another kick came towards his head. It missed and he leapt away to give himself a chance to recover.

He swung his dagger out wildly. The Night Watchman jumped nimbly to avoid it and Spencer cursed his misfortune. He thought fast, remembering the lessons his father had required. He aimed his blade for the legs. With his enemy distracted, Spencer lashed his arm out, grabbing tight hold of adversary's cloak. He pulled and watched the Night Watchman lose his footing. His quarry landed flat on his back with a loud _thwack_, cracking his head on the stone in the process. Spencer watched him struggle for the air unexpectedly forced from his lungs. It gave him a cruel sense of enjoyment watching him struggle.

He was far lighter than Spencer had expected. There was not enough weight for a full-grown man, a wiry youth maybe? Sir Spencer seized his foe's boot and dragged him forward. He dropped down so he was sitting on the masked man's thighs, sufficiently pinning him to the ground.

Nails suddenly scratched his right cheek, leaving red lines across his already scraped flesh. He snarled and spit into the Night Watchman's face, restraining his enemy's hands above his head. Again, he was almost positive that he was not dealing with an adult male…

Spencer's free hand traveled up to the face of his captive. Though masked and covered with cloth - that too did not seem right. No matter - he would find out what he was dealing with soon enough. He leaned further over and his fingers grazed the edge of the mask. "Let's see who you are."

Pride overcame him. Spencer smiled, oh how pleased the Sheriff would be! Bringing in the Night Watchman unaided, would drastically increase his standing.

He first pulled down the cloth that covered the Nightwatch Man's mouth and his fingers took note. There was no trace of beard. Spencer's suspicions continued to grow. Either this lad was quite young or… Spencer looked down and although the leather of the vest hid some of it, he could tell there was a distinct difference in the way his prisoner's chest rose compared to that of his own. Spencer's eyes widened. It was a woman!

Without further hesitation, Spencer reached up to pull the mask off. He was never able to see the face. There was a flash of movement in front of him and his vision went white as he careened sideways.

* * *

><p>Marian's head throbbed. Not only had she hit the back of it when Spencer knocked her down, but she had slammed it into his nose just a moment ago. Disentangling herself from Spencer, she scrabbled to her feet, her breath coming in heavy short waves; she was shaking. He was only temporarily stunned and she needed to run. Dear lord if he had seen her! She felt she might vomit right there but there was no time, she had to move.<p>

Hastily she made her way through the castle. There was no way that she could get to the dungeon, that would be the first place they looked. She made her way to the kitchens and crept into the larder. The cool of the room felt refreshing and she slid to the floor.

Marian could make out the contents of the room by the dim light coming from the small window. Several shelves lined the walls and a grouping of large and small hooks dangled from the ceiling, the ends of which held the carcasses of deer, chicken, and pigs. Marian worried that she would soon be in the same condition as they were.

Hidden for a moment, brief as it might be, Marian found time for a troubling matter. Had she hurt the baby? She said a swift prayer to the mother of Christ. Surely, she would understand the terror that she felt at this moment. She curled in on herself but refused to cry - not now, not when they could hear her. What would Guy say if she lost the baby? Would he care? It was then that she heard the yelling.

* * *

><p>Blood ran in two streams from Spencer's nose. Dare he risk embarrassment and declare the Night Watchman's presence? Allowing him - nay her - to be on the loose would risk his plan if Philip was rescued. He ran his sleeve across the blood and suppress his pride for his greater good. "The Night Watchman is in the castle!" That started it. The ensuing commotion spread quickly and soon those words were echoing throughout every hall, waking every soul.<p>

* * *

><p>Allan ran in the direction of the great hall, the last place he had seen Guy. He was relieved when he spotted him already out the door and making his way towards the origin of the shouts. Allan caught up with him, "You heard?"<p>

Guy didn't answer him, "Go that way and see if you can find her." His words, urgent as they were, were low enough that only Allan could hear them over the noise.

Guy of Gisborne felt panicked. How could she have been so foolish? He hated to admit it but he was frightened. Not for himself and the ramifications her thoughtlessness would bring on him but frightened for her. Wasn't it just that morning that Prince John had questioned her loyalty? That notwithstanding, it wouldn't matter if the Prince trusted her more than he did his own mother. If she were caught as the Night Watchman - she would hang.

He watched the guards swarm up and down the hallway. He pulled fitfully at his jacket collar and hoped that she was out of the castle already. He entered several chambers in his continuing search. That is when he opened the heavy door to the larder.

While Guy was looking to his left he saw her, pressed close to the door, a meat hook held tightly in her hand. He knew if he had been any other that he might have been dead by now. He mouthed the word, _stay_, and closed the door just as the he heard the Sheriff yelling at the top of his lungs. It was a long drawn out sound that made his ears ache, "What is going on!"

Spencer responded to the question, "The Night Watchman is here."

"The Night Watchman?" came another shout from Vaisey, who pivoted around to take in the entire scene. "What happened to you?"

Spencer licked his lips, "I had an altercation with him, my lord." _Her! _He cursed himself, her! He had to tell the Sheriff that morsel of information!

"And you let him escape?"

Spencer's ears rang and his hackles stood on end while the Sheriff continued ranting. "You worthless, useless, pathetic-" Spencer stopped listening. His thoughts seemed to roar inside his head. The only thing that he had to offer would lose him his reputation. To be bested by a woman - a woman - he would never live it down. He decided to save what little honor he had left and keep his new found information to himself.

The Sheriff pushed his face so close to Spencer's that he was forced to lean backwards in an attempt to get away and lost his balance. The Sheriff followed him down, "Did you call the guards for help?"

"No I -"

"You let him get away because your hubris was bigger than your head!"

Guy remained a stiff observer while he shielded the larder the best he could. A guard started to reach behind Guy and he positioned himself more firmly in front of the door, "I have already looked inside. There is no need to look again."

The Sheriff bellowed for another quarter of an hour and Guy was unsure he could take much more. Silently he begged for them to be gone. When search of the immediate area turned up nothing the Sheriff stomped past Spencer and, after clouting him in the head, continued down the hall, "Don't disturb me unless you fools find something! Double the guards on the boy! I expect you to look till sunup." He stopped and turned around and spoke to Spencer once more, "Don't think that the Prince wont here of this little incident."

Spencer was infuriated at himself for not calling for assistance, and at the Sheriff for being angry enough to threaten his place in Prince John's favor. Spencer, once again proving that humility was not among his list of attributes, set off alone to overtake the creature who had disgraced his name. Once he found her - dear God - once he found her, she would be begging for the torments of hell to save herself from his wrath.

* * *

><p>Guy stepped inside the larder and grabbed Marian by the shoulders. Holding her at arms length, he calmed himself before rage overcame him. His words came from between gritted teeth, "What were you doing?"<p>

In the darkness of the room, he couldn't see her fear and his fingers tightened around her upper arms. He turned to the door and then once more to her, "What if they had found you?" Still no response, not a gasp, not a sob - nothing. He towered over her and felt his body tremble, he told himself it was in anger.

Guy opened the door just a slit and looked out, everything appeared to be clear. Taking her hand, he dashed from the larder. The guards were still hunting, he had to hurry. They were halfway to his chambers when he heard someone coming. He pushed Marian into a closed doorway and pressed himself against her.

Guy's breath tickled Marian's hair, while he pushed her into the wall. "Stay here," he whispered, easing away. She saw him withdraw his curved dagger and coil his fingers around it. The footsteps turned off, Guy murmured a prayer and motioned for Marian to follow him.

Opening the door to his room, Guy barked at the child, "Close your eyes!" The bustle of the castle had woken the lad up some time ago and he snapped his lids closed at Guy's command.

Guy ushered Marian inside and soundlessly shut the door. He approached the bed and leaned down, "Keep your eyes shut and speak of this to no one. You'll regret it if you do." The boy nodded and Guy wondered if he would feel the pangs of remorse later on. "Not a word," he said in the direction of Marian.

How was he going to get her out? It hit him that he was not. He didn't have to. All he had to do was wait for Allan to come find him.

* * *

><p>They remained in silence for the better part of an hour. When Allan did rap against the door, Guy stepped outside. "I can't find her Giz. I've looked everywhere."<p>

Guy scowled severely at the slaughtering of his name, "I have her."

Allan felt a wave of relief rush over him, "She alright?"

"She's fine. Ride to Locksley - get her clothes. She remained here. All night - do you understand?"

Allan nodded his comprehension and Guy waved him off, "Be quick."

As Allan entered the stable, he found he had been followed. Spencer was well aware of Allan's past with Robin Hood and the appearance of the Night Watchman aroused his suspicions.

"What are you doing?"

"Runnin' an errand for Sir Guy," was the casual response. "'E needs somthin' from Locksley."

"In the middle of the night. I'm to believe that? How do I know this has nothing to do with the Night Watchman?"

Allan looked down his frame, gesturing to himself with his open palms, "Do I look like the Night Watchman?" He meant his question to indicate his attire but the confliction that seemed to envelop Spencer gave Allan the hint that he knew something he should not.

"No. You don't."

"Well then - what's this 'bout?"

"Why shouldn't I believe that you are helping him in someway?"

"You want me to get Sir Guy down 'ere?" Allan wet his lips, hoping that Spencer would not insist on that.

Spencer's countenance darkened further while he weighed the consequences. Finally he spoke, "That won't be necessary." He didn't want Vaisey to find out he had questioned Sir Guy.

Allan felt as if he was sweating blood when he mounted his horse and he failed to feel a sense of calm until he reached the manor house. Grateful that the door was unlocked, Allan entered the master bedroom and stared blankly around. What the devil was he supposed to bring? What did women wear? Well - not as obvious as that. He knew what they wore but…

He made his way over to the chest in the room and eased the lid open. Womanly looking clothes greeted him. He pulled out a long dress, tossing it over his shoulder. Stockings came next and then, closing his eyes in what would appear to be pain, he removed the undergarments. He hoped Marian wouldn't hold this against him…

* * *

><p>Guy remained by the door, he wondered if the child had gone to sleep as he instructed. He let a wondering eye fall on him to see if he was following orders. He was not. The breathing was off, Guy could easily tell. So silence prevailed. Guy would not risk letting her speak. The less the boy knew the better.<p>

His anger blazed at Marian, mute as it might be. He could not understand her stupidity. Did she want the Sheriff to find out everything? She not only put herself and Hood's precious child at risk - she had put him in danger as well.

Should the Sheriff discover her secret, it would come down on his head also. Their marriage made her his responsibility. It would go far worse for him if they discovered her now, hiding in his bedchamber, with him as guard. He could just feel the noose slide around his neck. Something he had sworn he would never experience again.

Guy's pulse came quicker when a knock sounded against the wooden door. "What?" Allan's voice greeted him and Guy undid the lock. He took the coarse, brown, sack from Allan's outstretched hand. Then, without any discussion or consultation, Guy closed the door before Allan had the chance to speak a word.

When she had dressed, Guy stuffed the discarded clothes into the empty bag and took them out to Allan. "Burn these," and once again he shut the door. He could tell his command upset her greatly, he did not care.

"You'll have to stay here tonight. The boy can sleep on the floor." He watched her scowl and when she opened her mouth to speak, he hushed her by raising his hand. "You don't like that?" He pulled the top blanket off the bed and tossed it at her, "That's the best I can do."

Guy turned to the door and felt the wadded up material hit his back. He growled while she crossed her arms and glared defiantly at him. He raised his eyebrows and picked the blanket up. "Fine. Have it your way."

When dawn finally broke, Guy was more than grateful. He was certain that no one had gotten any rest. He stood up from where he reclined against the door and stretched. It was not his strategy he had spent the night contemplating. All he managed to ponder over was her.

She hadn't shown the smallest shred of gratitude. That infuriated him but he had to question himself - what had he expected her to do? Throw herself at him? No - that would have been ill-timed. He wondered what he would have done had that occurred? He had no answer but he probably would have let things go further than he would have liked. "You need to get home," he said, extending a hand down to help her to her feet. Surprisingly she took it willingly.

Though Guy did not trust it, he was not opposed to the relief that coursed over him when they arrived at the stable without incident. Mayhap he wouldn't need to provide the Sheriff with excuses for her presence after all. Guy shook his head, "Didn't you worry that someone would recognize the horse?"

"The stable boy was beaten within a fraction of his life. I didn't feel that there would be anyone here to worry about it."

She made a point, not one that he would agree to. "Careless."

"I did not intend to stay all night," Marian said, adjusting the saddle.

"Your actions were once again, ill planned."

"By your standards."

"My standards keep me alive."

"You never act from the heart. Everything you do is coldly deliberate."

Guy looked down to the straw on the floor, "Not when it comes to you."

Marian didn't know what to say to him. She urged the horse forward and in the direction of home. She wiped her sleeve across her eyes when she felt he wouldn't see. He had been right. She looked back at him, expecting him to have turned away. However, their eyes met and her breast tightened in guilt. He was right.

* * *

><p>Guy stood near the Sheriff while he ate, "Milord, have you considered my request?"<p>

Vaisey popped a morsel into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully on it. "Which was?"

"That Allan attend Marian tonight."

"Is it really necessary? To have him at the table will disrupt things for Prince John. Which will disrupt things for me."

"Milord, in light of the animosity between Sir Spencer and myself, having Allan there would put my mind at ease."

"Yes. Well - it is just a matter of your peace being worth more than mine, Gisborne." He took another bite, "I'll think on it." Vaisey stopped chewing for a moment, "This animosity that you speak of, could it have something to do with the fact that your little leper is twisting you senses? You didn't step in to allow that stable rat to continue loving the Prince, now did you? A clue: No. Why did you save that boy, Gisborne? And don't say that," the Sheriff put on a simpering, mocking voice, "'It was the right thing to do."

Guy was quiet. He chose to answer the first part of the question, "I do not believe that Marian's presence or lack thereof would make any difference on how I view Spencer."

"So you claim. I think you're resentful. You've grown soft. Weak. Spencer possesses what you don't anymore. And do you know why? That leper has tainted you. Spread her morality around, corrupted you by her touch - as lepers so often do."

Guy stood completely still, how he hated it when he used that word! He dug the soles of his boots into the floor; his jaw felt tight.

While the Sheriff had never spoken on the subject and Guy hadn't offered any information, he wondered just how much the man knew of his childhood. If the Sheriff said half the things he did just to drive the knife into Guy's heart even more, Vaisey would never say and Guy would never ask.

"She is also the reason you saved that boy." No question, just a cold statement. "You couldn't face her if you let him die. Take care, Gisborne. Spencer is biding his time. I know it. He knows it. And, I daresay, you know it." He took a drink, savoring the rich flavor of the wine on his tongue. "You run to me though, like a chick to the wings of a hen. Begging, chirping for my support. There's hope for you yet, Gisborne. Now - don't get your feathers ruffled up, I suppose your man's presence will do. But remember, a favor for a favor."

When the Sheriff smiled, Guy felt the heat drain from his body. He nodded, resigned. He could deal with the Sheriff's favor later. For now he needed Allan there for Marian's sake, to protect her when he could not.

* * *

><p>Philip's knees were pulled to his chest, his head leaning against the wall behind him. He wondered how the stable lad was faring. In spite of being afforded the luxury of a more privileged life, he was still the natural son of a King, and at this moment in a dungeon awaiting death. No one was beneath his notice right now.<p>

His uncle sullied everything he came near; just thinking of him upset his stomach. The superciliousness of the man was enough to make him gag. Philip knew that his uncle had looked down his nose at him for as long as he could remember. He had taken it in stride, paying no heed to what he could not change. He had been above being offended.

He had contemplated several things at great length and had come to a definite conclusion of at least one of them. Some youths confronted with this predicament would have wished that the past be changed. That they would have groveled and endeared themselves to the Prince. Perhaps the outcome would be less _permanent_.

Philip did not desire that. No - he determined that he would have treated his uncle the same way whether or not he had been aware of his future fate. The _what ifs _were superfluous to his decisions now. Not that one could make many, if any, decisions in the dilemma that he was facing. Philip _was_ resolute in maintaining as much of his self-respect as possible, before his uncle and his unsavory party or Sir Guy and Allan.

The light changed; the door at the top of the stairs opened. Philip suspected Allan or possibly Sir Guy. He did his best not to look bewildered or frightened when Spencer loomed in front of the bars. Bars - Philip felt grateful for the first time since he found himself behind them. Spencer stared and Philip stared back, unmoved. It could be said that both possessed a great deal of pride, but in two very different forms. Philip's pride was knowledge of his own self worth, whereas Spencer's was a haughty self-importance.

"You know you're going to die," Spencer's words were flat as he looked at the child. He derived gratification in making someone else feel as miserable as he did at this time.

Philip's words were just as emotionless, "Everyone dies at one time or another. How do you know I won't outlive you?"

Spencer grabbed the bars and leaned forward, his voice a harsh whisper, "Because I'm the one that intends to kill you."

Spencer smiled then; Philip had grown to hate those vial grins. They reminded him of a cat toying with a mouse, knowing all along that it is going to kill its prey but letting it think that there is some chance of escape. "It is going to be slow. I've been perfecting the art for years. Your Uncle - your Uncle, he seems to like my work. The demonstration I gave to him is nothing compared to what you'll face." He smiled once more, "Enjoy your thoughts - I'll leave you to them."

As Philip watched Spencer leave, he struggled to hold onto the hope that Robin of Locksley would come to his aid - a hope that with each passing hour was growing dimmer.

* * *

><p>Guy already had his jacket half off when he entered the bedroom. Marian, already dressed for dinner, remained seated on the mattress. Guy peeled off his undershirt, tossing it onto the bed. He put on a clean shirt and replaced his jacket a moment later. It was then that he noticed Marian blushed. Guy could not help himself; he smirked.<p>

Standing in front of her, he placed on arm on either side of her, "Are you ready to leave?" When she looked up at him, he remembered the betrayals he had momentarily forgotten. He pulled away and went to the door. "I'll have the carriage readied. I don't wish to be late," he spoke harshly but didn't regret it.

When she did join him in the carriage, Guy made sure to check his thoughts when they drifted to how enticing she looked. He refused to permit those feelings. Not now. Not after what she had done. Not while she carried Hood's child. "Where is Edward?"

"He is unwell. He has kept to his bed today. After the dampness of the dungeons I do not wish to further subject him to the night air."

Guy laughed in dark amusement, "Oh - but the pitiable shelter in Sherwood - that was acceptable?"

"He is not in fear of his life tonight."

"I don't share your confidence."

He was sure that at his words, she would suspect him of some devious, murderous scheme. She always doubted him, always distrusted him. Nothing he did pleased her. Guy set his teeth before clarifying, "The Prince will find his lack of presence an effrontery. As former Sheriff he should be gracing him with innumerable bows and kissing his boots." Her silence made him angrier but in truth he was only angry with himself for wanting her still, "You better pray that he is in good temper tonight." There was nothing further to add and quiet overshadowed them like a suffocating cloth.

Marian fixed her gaze past Guy's head. He felt offended. She was the one who had betrayed him countless times in unthinkable ways and still she acted above him. As if he was the one who had wounded her!

The ride was uneven and more than once, he found himself inadvertently touching her, knee to knee. He would move his leg as soon as he noticed. Guy drew his arms over his stomach, and kept focused on the road. He tried to sort through his tangle of emotions but found them so snarled together that he gave up. What was the point? If he could excuse her infidelity, which he could not, he would never be able to trust her again. Each day he would leave for the castle and wonder if Hood was in her bed. It would be better never to expect anything from her - then he would never be disappointed.

Marian felt tortured. The many things that they could have done differently haunted her. There was little doubt that for as long as she lived, she would regret the past few months and her part in them.

This carriage ride played with her. The time she spent in Winchester's unholy company in similar quarters sprang to mind. How many times had she been knocked against him when a rut in the road jostled the carriage? How often had she wished for Robin to come? How different and attentive Guy had been after her rescue? How much she wanted him to act like that now…

It was not to be. Guy was too far gone from her. She dreaded the time when either he was in heaven or in hell and still thought badly of her. She had charged him with cold deliberation in all his actions. He had cleared himself of those charges. Wherever she was concerned, he always seemed to leave caution behind. He had placed her above his own wellbeing and before the Sheriff's orders. To a cold, deliberate man those acts would seem foolish.

Not that Guy was without fault. He had plenty of those. So many wrongs committed. A trail of destruction lay behind him and she often wondered if he had ever stopped to consider it. He was not selfless by any means. He was proud and determined to have his own way at cost to others. However, if she compared him to the Sheriff, Spencer, or Prince John, there was more potential for goodness in Guy than in all three of them. Were circumstances vastly different, would he have joined forces with Robin? Was considering that so unthinkable? As it was, all the angels in heaven could try to bring that about and each one would fail.

Marian wondered if she could still inspire him to goodness. If there was any chance of that she had to act, for the clean slate she had so counted on was already smudging. She had gone to the castle yesterday with the intention of speaking to him and hoped that he would consent to listen to her. That had ended at Spencer's hand.

There _was_ something she could do to amend at least one thing between them. She could admit that she was wrong in her allegation that morning. She firmed her resolve, "I owe you an apology." _I love you._

Guy looked at her through the corners of his eyes and waited for her to continue. Marian bit her bottom lip and went on, "For what I said this morning. I was wrong." _Please believe me._

Guy didn't say a word just let his attention return to the window, but his arms loosened from where they hugged his middle.

* * *

><p>Allan's mouth was watering. The kitchens were overflowing with all manner of delightful smells and the parade of dishes steadily marching to the elongated table was glorious to behold. Venison, chicken, and Much's favorite - pork, greeted exaggeratedly happy guests almost as soon as they walked in. Cakes beamed at him as he walked up one side of the table and down the other. They were simply begging for his touch.<p>

His eyes darted from side to side - no one was paying attention, he was neither a servant nor regally adorned. Slowly he stretched his hand forward and using his middle three fingers, he ran them almost caressingly down the side of one of the cakes, scooping up a considerable portion of icing. As his hand crept toward his mouth, never before could Allan remember being so hungry. That was when he recalled where most of this delectable feast would have come from. He stared at his fingers dejectedly; it was the principle of the matter. Disgustedly he wiped the icing clumsily against the cake leaving what he had hoped would be a sweet indulgence, lumped in a sad pile on the top of the dessert.

As he was wiping his hands against themselves, he felt a presence behind him. He stiffened, craned his head, and found himself face to face with Spencer. Allan almost groaned - the evening just kept declining.

"What are you doing here?"

Allan grinned cheekily, "I'm the life of the party."

Sir Guy interrupted before things could go further, "Allan! You're needed over here."

Shooting Spencer a pert look, Allan skirted around guests and made his way over to Guy who stationed him not ten paces behind Marian's chair. "Don't antagonize him. Don't even speak with him. Not now."

"So you're sayin' not to throw my pebbles before swine?"

Guy rubbed the bridge of his nose, he felt a headache coming on. "Sometimes you don't even have _pebbles_." He stepped away from Allan and went to the table. "Watch her," he said.

"See - if you didn't love 'er you wouldn't be so worried 'bout her."

Guy grimaced hoping Marian didn't hear Allan's unchecked words and as would be expected of him, assisted her into her chair before taking his place beside her. He felt as if each breath he took was too shallow. His boot tapped impatiently on the ground. What if this didn't work? There would be no other opportunity for him if he waited. At least not before it was too late.

He worried that his decision had been too hasty - as his marriage with Marian had proved to be. After this was set into motion there would be no going back. How he wished that things could return to how they had been. It would be so much easier not to give a damn about anyone.

* * *

><p>Over the course of the meal Guy didn't speak while on the other hand the Prince prattle endlessly about nonsensical things. Prince John spoke with Spencer too, a lengthy conversation. Apparently the Sheriff had forgiven Spencer for his blunder, or he was waiting to tell the Prince when it would embarrass the knight the most.<p>

He watched Marian frown when she heard the name 'Philip' said too loudly. At this moment, he could not condemn her for telling Hood. What difference did that make now? It was the lie that followed. Lies. That was a minor sin compared to the baby. He had convinced himself that he could have overlooked Winchester's but he was sure he could not excuse Hood's child.

Once again, he troubled himself to see if there was any other way this could be done. Once again, he sighed to himself when the answer was a resounding no. Though that was the case - he still felt everything from anxiety to loathing each and every time he considered what he was about to do. It could not be helped. He had to continue no matter the consequences. Consequences that he desired to only confront him.

A conversation he overheard that transpired between the Prince and the Sheriff bolstered his resolve. The first part of the discussion concerned the upcoming feast due to occur a week from today. Looking around at the meal and the guests, he couldn't see what the difference would be. He realized that these were only the local nobles and the expansive feast would double if not triple in size. Of course, that would only provide more of a distraction…

It was after a tedious discussion of the food that the dialog turned toward the _entertainment_ for the evening. Guy's shoulders arched back while he listened. Nothing was said outright but the insinuations were more than obvious.

He wondered how the Prince would justify the murder of his nephew to all of his guests. Would they condone it? He knew that many would fear reprisal and that is what would keep them silent. Some of them might approve. He knew the Black Knights would. Or in his case - should.

He felt as if he were throwing everything that he had strived for to the wind. Casting it aside like a broken blade. He was sacrificing everything he had believed in. Betray the Sheriff or the boy who called him a liar. One betrayal, he decided would be far worse than the other.

The Sheriff, God forbid if he discovered his treachery, would accuse him of allowing Marian to influence him. On that account, he would be wrong. For Marian's opinion was no longer relevant to him. Her desire for him to exercise his humanity may have played a role in his behavior previously but no longer. Now he acted of his own accord. It struck him that Marian would be proud of his initiative. He forced the sentiment down his throat. He would show her what she had lost.

Guy of Gisborne stood and, for what he considered show, laid a hand on Marian's shoulder when she looked up at him. Her eyes questioned his and unconsciously he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He gestured with an almost unperceivable nod of his head in Marian's direction before he began his departure. Allan signaled the affirmation of his part.

Marian watched as he left and Guy felt his innards tighten in response. A part of him, that Allan had clearly pointed out, still longed for her.

Calmly Guy walked out of the spacious room. Past the Sheriff. Past the Prince. Past Spencer. If anyone took note, no one reacted. His shirt clung to him; he hadn't realized that he had been sweating. The further he got from the meal, the less the smells bothered his aggravated stomach. This was it, the climax of the night, and maybe his entire life…

* * *

><p>Because of Spencer getting up, slowly walking around the table and lingering near Marian, Allan was practically standing over top of her. Not ten minutes into Guy's absence - to who knew where - and he already had to worry. The proximity of the tantalizing dishes made Allan salivate all over again and he had to make an effort not to drench Marian's head.<p>

Spencer retook his seat but continued to watch Lady Gisborne. He broke off a piece of bread and examined it. He touched the scratch marks running down his cheek. He studied Gisborne's wife again and wondered all the more so when he recalled the unexplained presence of her horse. Things were falling into place. His father would be proud with his reasoning. Something he seldom was.

* * *

><p>Robin noticed that Much didn't object when he made his way to Locksley. Much rambled on about everything that came to mind while his companion waked in silence. Robin did not complain. He had come too close to loosing him. He knew, and hated to admit it - that if Allan had not come to Much's aid, his friend might be dead. Robin didn't think he could have lived with that outcome. Especially when he was holding onto the resentment he had let build up. Let Much talk - he would not stop him. This time at least…<p>

It was out of their way to go to Locksley, particularly with the deer that they carried. They had tied the deer's legs to a long limb and each held an end of the branch. Robin had brought the animal down and was looking forward to something besides squirrel. Much knew that he was helping him hunt as an excuse to check on Marian but he didn't mind. He knew Robin. But as long as he had a captive audience, he was going to make the most of it…

Dusk was slipping by and Much focused on watching where he placed his feet. He wished they had started out earlier but he supposed Robin didn't want to get too close to Locksley while it was light. Adding to that reasoning, Robin had been mulling over bits and pieces of plans nearly all day. He claimed he had something in the works but that didn't restrain Much's worry. What Robin considered a plan and what Much considered a plan tended to be two very different things.

It was when they approached the edge of the forest that Robin dropped his end of the deer. His mouth went dry while his hands felt slick. Robin broke into a run, leaving Much standing there, still holding his part of the branch.

Without thinking, Robin sprinted across open space to get to the manor house. His scarf lay dead from the window. The only way she would risk asking him to come so soon was if something terrible had occurred. Robin could not feel his heart beat anymore.

All he could think about was what could have happened impelling Marian to signal him. What had Gisborne done? Robin barely noticed that Much had joined him and though he saw his friend's mouth moving in warning, Robin's ears were drumming and he couldn't hear him. Or chose not to. _Was that where his heart had gone?_ He wondered to himself. _Had it jumped to his ears?_

His hands were shaking when he started up the trellis. His legs had the consistency of pottage. As he climbed further, he gave attention to what he would do once he got to her. First, he would not waste time in getting her safely to camp. Second, he wouldn't hesitate to storm the castle and find Gisborne. The details of what he would do when he found him were cloudy and he had no notion of getting away with his life. No matter - Gisborne would not be alive to see it.

He pulled himself up into her room, tearing his sleeve on the end of the trellis in his haste. He struggled to adjust his vision but not a soul was in sight. Everything appeared to be in order; the furniture adorned their proper places. Regardless of the night, he could make out no sign of struggle. Her body was not bleeding on the floor nor was she lying beaten. Robin's chest hurt when he called her name, "Marian!"

A creak came from near the door in a dark, desolate corner. It caught Robin's attention and he narrowed his eyes to see better in the lightless room. Another creak and a step. "Marian?" However, Robin was unsure now. He tried to swallow but found himself unable to do so.

He could make out a figure emerging from the corner. And a gravelly voice greeted him from the shadows, "Hello Hood."

* * *

><p><em>AN Hi there! Contrary to popular belief - I am not dead! Yay! _

_I really have been working on this steadily. But you know - life. I will finish "Humanity" - nothing could make me leave it without an end. ;) _

_I know I told some of you that this chapter would up in October. As you can see - all my grandiose plans fell to pieces. Sorry about that. I feel really bad for not being able to keep to what I said. _

_I want to deeply thank all the anonymous reviewers. I really wish I could thank you in person. So a BIG thank you! _

I also want to thank everyone who is following this and taking the time to read it. It means a lot. It does. Sorry I am not as speedy with the chapters as I would like.

I hope everyone was in character. Marian is finding out what she has instead of what she doesn't. Guy did save those kids (or at least start to save them) that he found spying on him in "Childhood." So I don't think him standing up for the stable boy would be so out of character.

Any new ideas about Spencer yet?

Once again - thank you! And happy reading!

CA :o)


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